


101 Silver and Red Stories

by silver_shadowstorm



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Also requests are taken, Multi, Possible Character Death, Randomness, slight suggestive themes, tumblr promts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5714605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_shadowstorm/pseuds/silver_shadowstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 101 and one arcs and one-shots in which Grell and Undertaker are in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Day; Lovely Night

Rain poured down from the sky, mercilessly drenching any poor passerby. In this case, the unfortunate soul to be caught in this last minute storm was the one and only red reaper, Grell Sutcliffe.

She was freezing, she was wet and her makeup was runny. Today was definitely not her day. But, she felt numb. She hardly felt the water pelting her back, the cold was only a sensation she was hardly aware of. No, today was not good to her. She crossed the cobbled streets, her heels getting stained with the mud. Pulling herself onto a crate and curling up there, she finally let out all her pent up frustrations in tears.

All day she had been assigned to reap the souls of children - children! All day long she was forced tp reap that which she most dearly wanted. Her heart went out for those kids. Like every time, she wished she could’ve spared them, yet none were special enough to be left alive. She clutched the ill-gotten coat harder against her chest, angry tears mixing with the chilled rain. How she longed to bear a child, one she could call her own; and here were these damned mortals, killing them and letting them slip from their grasps. Her late-night run-in with a prostitute on the last area she’d been in had almost reawakened half of Jack the Ripper. The way she spoke of ‘those insufferable brats’ and how they were only ‘pests and vermin who’d ruin her life’ was enough to make her blood boil with rage. For the first time since her beloved Angelina, Grell saw red. She wished to run her scythe through her and coat her in her favorite color, ripping her slowly and painfully. It was equally good and bad that she noticed her next reaping was due in just a few minutes.

So now, there she lay, curled up on some rotting crate, crying for what she knew she could never obtain. 

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

The silver-haired mortician came and went around his shop. Today, he didn’t have any new guests, so he opted to clean the place out of sheer boredom. The little Earl and his funny Butler didn’t come by, and with the lack of anything to do (and noticing the ever growing dust piles on his coffins) he decided some cleaning was due. He had finished said task but a few minutes ago and was now dedicated to organizing the caskets. He took out his newest masterpiece, a pinewood coffin with delicate silver engravings over the black background. He hummed to himself as he pushed it over to the display. Positioning it carefully, he took the time to look out the window and into the rainy scene. Dull and drab as always, much like his shop. Well, his shop never had such a splash of crimson like it was outside.

…

And now that it came to mind, there never was a red like that outside his window. Undertaker squinted his eyes, focusing his gaze on the abnormal blotch of red. Curiosity now piqued, he headed to the entrance of his shop and took an umbrella. Swiftly crossing the street, the silverette reached the red blob, only to realize it was only Grell on the crate. She hadn’t noticed him yet, it would seem, for she was still curled up on herself, her shoulders moving, racking her whole body. The Undertaker’s smile dampened. What was a flamboyant reaper doing here all alone in this weather? He tapped her shoulder lightly. She didn’t move. He tried again, a little harder this time and calling her name. 

That got a reaction. She instantly sat up, swatting his hand away and summoning her Death Scythe. Her position was instantly on alert, acidic green eyes scanning the surrounding area. She slackened her posture once her eyes met his...well, his fringe to be exact. A sigh escaped her bluing lips. “Honestly, you almost gave me a heart attack! It’s not polite to scare a lady so, Undertaker.” She dismissed her scythe and went back to sitting on the crate, her back to him. The mortician giggled, yet he wondered if the lady would care to come inside? Surely it would be better than being out here in the rain. And what was her expression just a second ago? Had she truly been frightened by him so? Shrugging, he poker her shoulder yet again. Her response was something quite unexpected.

“Leave me alone,” it was barely a whisper drowned out by the wind, yet he heard it. This just wouldn’t do. “M’lady, I was only going to offer a place for you to stay while the rain subsided. Surely it wouldn’t do to let you out here while I have a cozy place for you. Come, I’ll have some tea prepared for us in my shop.” Without waiting for an answer, he picked her up and carried her off to his place, ignoring her squirming; she gave up soon enough anyway.

She weighed nothing, and she indeed was very effeminate, with those slight curves of her body and tender flesh. Her drenched locks stuck to her face, framing it quite adorably. His eyes roamed over her form, taking in the small details. She was indeed the Red Beauty she claimed to be.

He had to stop his gazing when he felt her ringed eyes on him, a light pink dusting his cheeks at the thought of being caught. Undertaker set her down on a coffin once inside. “Why don’t you go dry yourself up in the water closet? I have some towels there and a spare set of pants and shirt. It might be too big on you...ihihihi, but that’s all I’ve got, and it’s better than lounging around all wet, you’d catch your death like that hehehehehe!” Grell nodded, seeming the meek butler she had posed as when she first came into his shop. She stood and walked off to the hall at the back, turning to the Undertaker at the last minute, “Where is the water closet?” realizing his slip, he hastily replied, “Next door to the right. Can’t miss it, hihi.” She nodded and left.

Undertaker set up a fire and started to boil some water for tea. He hummed to himself as he did, rummaging the pantry for a not-so-bitter tea. A green packet caught his eye. Peppermint. “Hmm, this out to do.” He quickly scurried back to the main room with the tea and cups, where Grell had reappeared. He swore he almost dropped the tray at the sight.

She sat on the coffin she had occupied previously, his pants pooling at her feet and the sleeves too long on her slender arms. Her hair was messily tied in a bun, yet silken crimson lock escaped their confines, brushing at her neck and bangs neatly parted, framing her ivory face. It was strangely alluring to see her wear his things. His feet stumbled and he hardly regained his balance when she set her eyes on him. The familiar heat spread on his chest rose to his cheeks, his fringe thankfully hiding the reaction. “Here we go. Tea for the lovely lady.” The rare sweet smile she directed at him stunned the mortician. She gracefully took the offered beaker and with a low voice, one quite unused by her, she said, “Thank you.”

Undertaker’s smile was lighter this time, more gentle and less forced. “Hihihihi, no problem m’dear.” He sat on the coffin parallel to hers so he could observe her. Taking a sip from his tea, he let out a satisfactory sigh.

“So, why was the lady all alone, drenching herself in the rain?” A glance at the redhead told him it was the wrong question. She flinched and hid her lovely face behind the beaker. When she did speak, it was in a mousy voice. “N-no reason.” Once again, Undertaker’s frown dampened. The red-obsessed reaper had caught his attention from day one. From when she strangled him and then buried him in salt. When she was out there, chasing foolishly after William and Master Butler, all of her antics, he found adorable. The Reaper Society had gotten stricter, with more restrictions and rules. Everyone seemed to work, work, work and work. Everything became monotonous, yet somehow, she came, emerging as a beautiful splash of red over the boring tones of grey and somberness. She was something else, and he liked that about her. He liked her, he realized. He only wasn’t sure of the extent of his affections.

Casting those thoughts away, he shook his head, surprisingly, without unsettling his bizarre top-hat. “Well there oughtta’ be a reason. My guests always confide me their secrets, and I’ve never told a soul about them! Hehehe~!” The beginnings of a smile pulled at her lips. She bowed her head, pretending that the tea was more interesting, “I only had a bad day, and I didn’t want to go back to the Dispatch.” For some reason, Undertaker didn’t think that was all.

“Well, I guess you and I are on the same boat on that. If m’lady can keep a secret, I’d be willing to share it.” He enticed, hoping to keep the conversation going and get her to open up to him. She looked up at him with burning curiosity, nodding her head and causing a strand of hair to shift over to her eyes. The silverette reacted on instinct, pushing the stray lock back in its proper place. The strand was as soft as it looked, making him wonder what it would feel like to grasp more of those luscious locks in his hands. Red came over the younger reaper’s face, making her look sweet and vulnerable. 

“I can keep secrets. I’m good with those.” The mortician smiled. “Alrighty. Then I confess m’lady, my day wasn’t that good either.” He sat back, remembering all the new orders he had gotten earlier that day. Thankfully, his guests hadn't arrived yet, so he could mentally prepare himself for the horrors to come. “I got orders for some caskets, but these were for lil’ ones. I can’t stand it when they leave so young.” At that, Grell’s head snapped up, focusing on him. “You don’t like it when children die?” The disbelief in her tone angered the elder, but he kept most of it at bay, quickly snapping his reply. “Of course I don’t. They’re too little to leave this world! So young, so innocent! They- they,” He didn’t know how to continue, but… he didn’t have to. “They had a whole life ahead of themselves. I know what you mean. I hate reaping them because of that.” She tried to look into his hypnotic eyes, but was met with his fringe, as always. She turned away after that.

“All my reapings consisted of children today, and I had an unfortunate run-in with some whore that almost made me revive Jack.” she confessed. 

Why am I telling him this? This isn’t like me at all! 

She didn’t know, but when she felt strong arms encircle her, bringing her into a warm embrace, she lost control of all her actions. Her hands snaked over his shoulders, grabbing fistfulls of the silver hair as sobs racked her body once more. The mortician only held her tighter, rocking her slightly and humming a relaxing tune.

For how long they stayed like that, neither knew, yet none would admit that they didn’t want it to end. Slowly, the redhead relaxed, calming down with the Undertaker’s actions. Said reaper only looked down at her in adoration. She held such a brave front, with all her flamboyancy and eccentricity, everyone forgot she had her sad moments too. No one held her like he did, no one was really ever there to comfort her but him. And it felt… nice. It was a warm feeling, soothing. She was quickly becoming addicted.

“Thank you.” her words were filled with a seldom used sincerity. As always, the mortician only smiled, genuinely this time. That seemed to happen a lot when she was near. The real smiles. He knew he was already done for.

They parted reluctantly, unwilling to leave the comfort of their embrace, yet unsure of the other’s feelings. Undertaker was the first to speak.

“You know m’lady, I’ve ran out of cookies. I was going to offer some before I found I didn’t have any. Mayhaps you’d like to accompany me whilst I bake?” He extended a hand as invitation. Eagerly returning the gesture, the younger reaper’s spirits lifted. “Can I help you bake them?” She asked excitedly. “Of course~! Hihihihihi, it’ll prove to be fun.”

Grell’s cheshire smirk made an appearance, brightening the Undertaker’s mood. “Though I must say, I’ve tried your cookies and I know~ I can make better ones.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really~? Would the lady care to put her money where her mouth is~?” he asked playfully. The redhead’s grin took on a hint of playful malice. “Why not~? It’s always fun to beat someone,” a glint of excitement invaded her eyes, “And if we make this into a competition~?” Undertaker formed a grin of his own. “Oh~ yes, yes! Each makes a batch of their best cookies. Loser has to do as the winner says for the rest of the day?” Grell agreed.

They raced to the kitchen, each taking one of the pink aprons hanging on the rack. Grell instantly teasing him for it, earning bouts of laughter in return. “Feel free to look for anything you need~! Beware the spare organs I hide.” The younger made a face, once again making the mortician laugh. Picking up on the joke, she laughed in return, though still weary. One couldn’t be too sure with the Undertaker.

Both reapers took up a corner of the kitchen, weighing and mixing the ingredients. The unspoken rule of not getting into the other’s space was violated when they both reached for the flour. Their fingers brushed, sending electricity through their veins. Blushed spread on their faces, each facing away from the other. As a way to conceal the feeling he didn’t know how to explain, Undertaker suddenly threw some flour on the other’s face, dusting it white as a ghost. Miffed, Grell stood stiff while the cloud dissipated, only returning to the real world when the silverettes laughter pulled him out of his state.

A smirk came back into place. She retaliated by throwing flour in his face. Now it was his turn to stiffen. Both reapers eyed the other, before bursting into fits of laughter. An evil glint in his eyes, Undertaker kept up the fight, throwing more flour at the red reaper. They engaged in an all out war, throwing whatever they could get their hands on at the other. Luckily, the only thing that their hands reached was flour, baking powder and salt. Otherwise, it would’ve been hell to clean.

Undertaker flung a fistfull of flour at his opponent, but he didn’t take into account the wooden spoon at his feet. At the last second, he slipped, taking down the unsuspecting redhead with him. They each closed their eyes, landing in a heap with Undertaker over Grell. He pushed out his arms so as not to crush the petite reaper beneath him.

The silver-haired reaper sneaked a peek and was glad to see that Grell was okay. Her eyes were screwed shut, nose scrunched in the most adorable manner possible. She peered at him from beneath her lashes, cheeks instantly flushing heatedly when she found herself staring at the man’s enchanting orbs. 

Time seemed to freeze between the two. Heat pooled in their chests, red creeping through their necks and up to their ears. There seemed to be less air, the place becoming more constricted as their hearts sped. They could feel the other’s breaths, teasing and enticing.

Undertaker shifted over her, slowly leaning down. His stomach was in knots and he couldn’t think straight. Was this what it was like to be in love? It’d been so long he couldn’t really remember. Beneath him, the red reaper was in the same trance as he, bewitched by those eyes; so like hers, yet they were so different from the others. They were unique, drawing her to him. She let the elder approach, lidded eyes focusing solely on him. Their lips were a breath away, almost brushing with the other’s; their hearts threatening to burst out of their confines.

 

 

CRASH!!

A glass jar containing milk splattered onto the floor, breaking into tiny fragments, snapping them out of their daze. Realizing their positions, they scrambled off the floor, blushing madly. 

“Eh~... sorry. I-I’ll get to cleaning that.” Undertaker muttered, swiftly turning away from the now-dejected smaller reaper in search for a cloth and the trash. “U-uh, yeah. It’s fine.” Each went to their task, hardly concentrating at all.

The mortician got a few scrapes with the glass while picking it up for thinking about the other reaper, while Grell’s fingers wouldn’t stop shaking from equal parts adrenaline and anxiety. She swallowed hard, wishing that the shattered glass hadn’t gotten in the way. A strong desire to feel the mortician’s lips on her engulfed her, heat radiating from her body and collecting strongly at her core.

It was silent between the two, until sick of the silence, Undertaker let out a joke. They laughed, regaining the calm and friendly atmosphere from before and ebbing away the awkwardness. Soon, they’d each placed their batches on the oven. Undertaker having made his usual bone-shaped cookies and Grell placing some star-shaped ones. The male reaper sat on a stool and watched as the redhead went about taking another bowl and a few more ingredients.

“What’cha doin’ m’lady?” he tried to look at what she was doing, yet her back covered her work. Oh well, her back was nice to look at anyway. It had a nice curve to it and it moved gracefully. He decided to watch her instead. “I like to put icing on my cookies.” she replied without looking up from her task. He stayed where he was, watching her handle herself in his kitchen, wearing his clothes and humming a little song. The words slipped past her lips easily, hitting every note perfectly. He enjoyed just laying back for a while, watching and listening at the shinigami before him.

The smell of just-about-ready cookies brought him back from his daze. He put mittens on and carefully pulled out the trays with their treats. He set them on the counter and cleaned up the remaining bowls and such while they cooled. Grell did the same after finishing up the icing. She put dollops of the fluffyness on the cookies, spreading it slightly before placing them in a platter, next to the Undertaker’s. The man had to admit, those looked good with the velvet frosting. He served two tall glasses of milk and placed them on a coffin by the fire in the main room. Grell followed with the plated goods.

They took their previous seats, each taking a glass. “Alrighty then~ What’s the rules?” Grell smirked. “Unnie darling~ There are no rules. Simply, the best one wins.” The mortician chuckled, easily picking a star-shaped cookie; Grell mirroring his actions with one of his creations.

Biting into the baked goods, a world of flavor exploded in their mouths. Undertaker’s creations, while on the crispy side, were sweet; perfect to accompany some bitter-tasting tea. Grell munched on those happily, enjoying the irresistible texture. Undertaker gazed at him from the corner of his eyes, admiring the redhead’s happiness at such simplicity. And of course, the precious flavor and chewy feel the treat he was eating put him in an even greater mood. 

To him, Grell was something else. Someone to be cherished, she could easily brighten one’s day with a nice conversation and the company of her true nature; not the faux one she used to fool everyone into believing she was happy, when in reality, she was bleeding inside. 

“I take it back. You’re much better at this than me!” giggled the ginger. She bit off half of one of her treats, washing it down with milk. Undertaker joined with a much more macabre guaff. “Then does that mean I win, m’lady~?” Grell nodded. 

“Unless you have something to say about my treats?” The elder reaper complied. “While they indeed were prettier, mine were still, in every other way, better~! Hihihihihi~!” He laughed when a black glove met his face. “You don’t have to be mean about it!” Grell had to be joking. How can a grown biological man pull off a pout so adorable? I swear, he does this on purpose, thought the man; eyes tracing the redhead’s lips. 

“Hihihihihi, excuse me, m’lady.”

“Alright, fine. You win.” She peeked at him from under her lashes. “What are you going to do now?” That made the mortician’s gears get to work. It was already a bit past midnight, and he knew the other to be tired. A part of him wanted to be a gentleman and let the rose rest, but another side wanted to have the redhead squirming in pleasure and calling his name. She was bound to him for the rest of the night, after all. He quickly shook those thoughts from his mind. He’d have enough time for that once he made her his. For tonight, he would behave.

“Hmm. It’s already late, mayhaps the lady would wish to sleep?” She looked taken aback at his answer. “Uh… are you sure? There is nothing you wish from me?” The face she pulled was concerning. Was she really expecting him to fully exploit the power he now held for his own pleasures? Just what’s been going on with the redhead?

Undertaker reined in his thoughts once more. “Of course not. Some other day you could help me around the mortuary, but for now, you need to rest, don’t you? M’lady’s had quite a long day after all.” There was a tenderness in his tone that surprised and astonished the red reaper. She could only nod, not trusting her voice. “Hihi, well then, I’m afraid I’ve neglected the bed in the back room, so the most I can offer is one of my best coffins for you to sleep in.” He seemed apologetic, yet he grinned and continued, “Not to worry though, my guests have never complained. In fact they like those so much, that their families pay so they can keep them! Hihihihihihi~!” Grell cracked a smile and a chuckle soon followed. “Hehe, alright. Now that you mention it, I truly am tired.”

Undertaker complied, taking her to one of the newer caskets and lifting her into it. A little surprised squeak left her lips, and the mortician was sorely tempted to entice more sounds like those come out of her. He set her down gently and was about to leave for his own, when a hand to his wrist detained him.

When he turned around, he certainly didn’t expect soft, plump lips on his cheek, narrowly missing his mouth. The feeling wasn’t there for long, for as soon as they came, they were gone; leaving an unusual emptiness in him. She had a sheepish smile, a blush of her favorite color adorning her cheeks. “Thanks. It… y-you really made me feel… better.” Moved by the rare display of kindness and affection, the Undertaker only grinned. “Why it was a pleasure. I don’t get much living guests. Your company was much appreciated.” His grin widened. “And I got two batches of scrumptious treats, it was a great deal.” 

This enticed a sweet smile from the generally eccentric reaper. “Goodnight, Unny.”

She shifted back into the coffin, placing her arms over her chest as if dead. Undertaker chuckled morbidly. “The dead don’t rest like that.” He said it mostly to himself, shaking his head. Though, the ginger heard him. She peered at him lazily. “Then how do they sleep, mortician?” There was a playful edge to her tone, laced with concealed desire.The silverette wasn’t expecting an answer, and when he did get one, he couldn’t seem to control himself. He flung himself at the other shinigami, landing softly on her. The mortician flipped their positions, pressing against the wall of the casket to his back and Grell to his scarred chest. Surprised whimpers came from the younger one, yet there was no denying the silver reaper. She clung to him to steady herself, unsure of the attention. No one had ever held her like that. It was warm and caring - loving even.

“Wh-what are-” Soft lips pressed on her own gently, invitingly. She gasped in surprise and the man’s tongue slipped into her mouth. It felt so good, after all this time, wishing, dreaming; someone was holding her, wanting her. It was never like this for her. She’d been with others before, but they were never around for when the curtains of the night dawned on them. And then fear struck her, ruining a perfect moment. Grell knew she cared for the Undertaker, at least to a friendly point, but that feeling had been evolving and escalating all night. She knew of he were to dismiss her come morning, her heart wouldn’t be able to take it. She had to stop this, before she got in too deep. Gently, yet firmly, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. She almost regretted it, upon hearing the hardly audible whimper at the loss.

“Y-you, you kissed me!” Her face aflame and heated, she could barely stand to look at his eyes. A tender expression graced his angel-like features. “Yes, and I would very much like to do it again, if the lady permits.” Just now did he realize how he had acted, never taking into consideration the other’s feelings. Undertaker knew she harboured a crush for that prim and stoic reaper, William T. Spears. He knew she liked Sebastian. Yet he overstepped. He thought himself important to her, even when she hadn’t shown him he was. ‘You old fool!’, he thought to himself, masking his discomfort.

“You would?” Her voice a meek whisper, his heart began to throb. “Of course,” the answer came automatically. “I have strong feelings for you, Grell. I wouldn’t call it love yet; but it just might be.” She looked over at him, acid eyes brimmed with tears. “You’re not only playing with me? You truly mean that?” She parted his bangs and stared into his gold-and-green ringed orbs. They were honest; they cared; they just might love. Isn’t that what she always wanted? To love and to be loved? He was right, this wasn’t love, but it could grow into it. He was there for her, he cared. He didn’t abuse her, he always referred to her as the lady she was, he was kind and he made her feel happy. She felt free with him. She could laugh and be herself, for she knew he wouldn’t judge, no matter what trick she played - and boy did she play many before. “Would I lie to you like that?,” he ran his hands through her crimson locks. “No, I’d never be able to do that to such a beautiful rose.”

Hesitantly, Grell inched forward, planting a kiss on the mortician’s lips. He returned the affection instantly, wrapping his arms around her waist to bring her closer to him. For the first time in centuries, she felt at peace. She was happily lying in the arms of the man she was quickly falling for. As for the Undertaker, he couldn’t be better. He smiled against the kiss, pushing his tongue to her lips for entrance. She granted it eagerly, finally feeling what she had wanted to feel; if not love, a deeper affection than what she had ever gotten. 

It would seem like an eternity when they parted, feeling giddy and light-headed. “You know, Taker,” she grinned up at him. “I may be falling for you.” The silver reaper’s face lit up. “Good, because I know I want you around me, everyday.” With her heart ready to burst from all the positive emotions drowning out the last of her sorrows, she snuggled into his chest, having her face buried against the crook of his neck. He clung to her tightly, afraid to let go.

They slept soundly that night, enjoying the other’s company and welcoming their warmth. That day had not been too kind for Grell, nor for Undertaker, but their meeting that night most certainly made up for it. Specially when they realized, they would never be alone again.


	2. Too tall, too short, just Right

The Undertaker’s shop was closed for the day - of course, it was Saturday, so no one would really be working. It was dreadfully boring, with no customers and no guests, seeing as they’d all been buried by now. He lay on one of his coffin’s lids, limbs and hair splayed about. How he wished for the company of a certain red reaper, she was most entertaining creature he’d met as of late. She somehow managed to make him smile for real, and that was a feat in itself. ‘Mayhaps she’d come today?’ It would be a nice treat, to have her here. He would never understand why the uptight William always pushed her away and harmed her so.

He was starting to fall asleep, when the little bell at the top of his shop rang. Startled, he leapt up, landing unceremoniously on the floor. A well known giggle floated through the air. ‘Speak of the Devil.’ He grinned, not at all bothered by the fact that she had intruded. He intruded in everyone’s personal space after all - he really couldn’t judge. “Hello, Unny~ Quite the predicament you’re in, huh?” She stood by his feet, her high-heeled boots slightly nudging his own. He traced her outline, thankful for having such longs bangs so she wouldn’t notice. A hand was stretched his way, which he all too eagerly accepted. “Why ‘ello, m’lady. Wasn’t expecting on having company today, you see.” He was brought to his feet by a strength that didn’t seem to match her size. Long hands with obsidian claws patted down his robes, to at least look more presentable.

“Honestly I hadn’t planned on arriving, but William is in a rather prissy mood, so I can’t bother him - he won’t even let me be in the Reaper Realm! Can you believe that?” Her hands were making exasperated motions as she paced. “I would be annoying Bassy now, but he’s such a bore as of late.” She pouted and fell onto an open coffin, laying dramatically as if dead. The mortician laughed, amused by the younger’s antics. She lifted her head to watch him, loving the sound. It wasn’t the creepy or scratchy laugh she was used to hearing when he was around humans. This was a real laugh, and the fact that she was the one to bring it made her smile. 

“Oh! How dare you laugh at a lady’s misfortunes, you scoundrel!” She tried to lift herself off from the casket, but her gloves made her slide on the wood and back into it. She squeaked as she fell, a small ‘oomph’ sounding when her back reached the bottom of it. Undertaker couldn’t take it, she was just so funny! He went over to her and peered down. “Forgive this old loon, m’dear. He always forgets his manners you see.” He stared into her eyes, just like his own yet so different. They glowed in a way no others did, as if they had a fire behind them. He was not aware that his bangs had parted, too lost in the acidic pools of emerald and gold beneath him. She was staring right back at his. Eyes that to her were jewels, eyes that couldn’t lie. A giddy warmth spread through her chest, but she refused to let herself blush in front of this beauty. Shyness was not her strong point - but flirting was.

Her signature cheshire smirk slid into place, exposing the dangers that were her teeth. Her eyes lidded in a devious way. Her hand came to rest behind her neck, the other toying with a strand of crimson hair. “See anything you like, Undertaker?” She said it so smoothly, voice like freshly poured wine. Both her hands came up to play with the silver locks that fell on her, tugging at them playfully. Her smirk only widened when he realized he had been staring. He fumbled quickly to lean away, snatching her glasses in the process. She let out an indignant yelp as he stepped away.

“Hehehehe~ My lady forgets that I can’t see too well, for I have no glasses to call my own.” He giggled, dancing away in childish delight when she came up to snatch them back. “Hey, those are mine!” She reached for them, but was much too short. He was incredibly tall, looming over her for some inches. His long arms were stretched over him, making it impossible for her to grab them. “Give them! I need those!” She jumped, not quite reaching as he had once more danced away. The mortician chuckled. What a fun game they were playing. She tried and tried again, but failed each time. 

“You’re doing quite fine without those, m’dear. There would be many who wouldn’t even see past their noses.” She reached again, this time managing to lower his arm, but it wasn’t enough to take them. She let out a frustrated sigh, cursing at her shortness - even when wearing heels. “Undertaker~ It’s not fair! Give them back already!” Her hands clasped around his sleeve, yet didn’t get the chance to take the spectacles as he passed them to his other hand. “M’dear, that wasn’t so ladylike.” He chided. “Lets play a game. I’ll give these back when you learn how to use your other senses and stop relying on your sight so much.” He giggled as she leapt, this time her fingers grazing her red glasses. She muttered a curse under her breath, this time listening to the other’s footsteps. “Good, good, you’re learning now.” He kept laughing at her tries, amazed at how easily she was starting to pick up on it. She was so lovely to watch, her movements ever graceful like a feline’s.

At the same moment, Grell enjoyed the game. It felt so good to be around someone who didn’t hate nor disrespect her. He always found a way to cheer her up, to make her smile. Without her sight, her other senses intensified, as he has claimed they would. That also meant that the sixth sense the reapers had for sensing auras was also at a higher capacity. She felt the warmth and care coming off the other in waves, the affection, and couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed. She kept jumping, feeling his eyes follow her every move.

“Come on, this is getting old!” She tried, failing once more. ‘He wants me to use my other senses? I’ll show him!’ She curled her left palm into a fist, pulling it back and hitting him in his stomach. Startled, he yelped at the slight pain - thank Death she hadn’t hit his scars- and curled into himself. Her other hand yanked him by the collar, bringing him down and smashing their lips together. His eyes went wide at the unexpected contact. Soft lips kissed his own with fiery passion, making him wrap his arms around the petite reaper to pull her closer. Her hand slid up his chest to hold his own while the other entangled itself in his hair.

He felt her tongue probing his lips, and he instantly gave it access. She pulled away, giggling. The hand that was on his had taken back her precious glasses, delicately placing them on her face once more. “Tsk, tsk. It’s rude to tease a lady so, Undertaker. Didn’t I tell you that already?” He looked at her dejectedly. He had thought...nevermind. 

Why would he allow himself to think that if they never wanted to be around him? Why would a reaper like her want to be with some creepy, old loon?

She went to stand before the mortician, placing a now glove-uncovered hand on his cheek. “Though I must say,” she leaned in, standing on the tips of her toes to whisper into his ear, “I rather liked the game. Specially the last part.” He gasped, surprised. There were those sinfully delicious lips on his again, this time her tongue coming in and stroking his own. He came back from his shock, returning the gesture. A low rumble sounded in her chest when she giggled, pulling away. “I better get to the Dispatch now, heavens knows what cruel punishment William will have in store for me, but I’ll be back soon enough, darling~” She winked, swaying her hips as she headed for the door.

“Not fair, m’lady.” He complained following her, intent on having her stay. She only smirked. “You tease me, I tease back. I’m a lady like that.” She blew him a kiss and left, leaving a confused and happy Undertaker in her wake. She would be hard to conquer, but she was worth the trouble. It wasn’t everyday that one met a Reaper like Grell Sutcliff. “I'll be waiting, my lady.” He went back into his shop, surprisingly giddy and no longer bored. She’d be back soon, he knew. Hopefully then, she would stay.


	3. Eat Me not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Ciel in Wonderland! AU

It was another normal afternoon in Wonderland - or as normal as one could be in a place like it. The Mad Hatter sat at the head of his many misfit tables, with the teacups, and saucers and pastries scattered everywhere. His friend, the Dormouse was happily snoozing away, drool falling all over his spot and tea. The March Hare nibbled quietly on some biscuits, sipping his tea on occasion. It’d been quite a few days - perhaps even weeks or months, no one really knew for time was a rather tricky thing to tell in Wonderland - since the latest Alice had fallen to their queer little world through the Rabbit Hole. And what an Alice that one had been, so unlike the first, with his dark hair and dark, almost uninnocent ways. He was a child, but rarely acted like so. How queer…

But now that Alice was long gone, and he had taken the Rabbit along, to probably never return. Since then the Tea-Table had grown quiet, and honestly, boring. There was nothing to do and no one to bother anymore. Truly the Hatter had always been mad - it even said so in his name- but boredom always pushed him a bit over the edge. He sighed heavily, laying his head on the back of the chair, looking at the world upside-down - note, not downside-up, as one would believe, for these two were quite different but often found themselves confused. His bangs fell, reaching for the ground along with his funny top-hat, exposing his scarred face.

And then came the solution that would end his misery and boredom. 

A chain reaction unfolded right before his very eyes!

A loud and shrill ‘Me~ow!’ rang through the air, scaring the Dormouse from his sleep and making him leap onto the table, only to throw off anything in his vicinity. The March Hare’s preeners came out, held tightly in his grasp. Both were frantic, the younger of the trio screaming ‘Cat! Cat! I’m gonna die!’ all over. At the same time, the Hatter bolted up. He looked at his friend’s desperate attempts to look brave - at least in the Hare’s case- and could only laugh. He pushed the chair aside, not minding the disaster it made as it broke when it crashed.

He came to stand at his full height, only to double over with laughter at the face of his companions, for he already knew the cause of their disturbance. Once the Hatter got his breath, he slammed his hands down on the table. The others quieted down and even the meowing in the background quieted.

“Now, now! We agreed we would be safe here. A mewling like that could only come from our dear Cheshire.” He giggled as the others calmed down. “Oh, if it’s only Chesh, then I’ll go back to sleep.” No sooner than those words were uttered that the rather large rodent -for you see rodents like him weren’t supposed to be very big- curled up in the middle of the table, unmindful of the plates and pastries. The Hare, upon hearing that it was the Cheshire, decided to leave. Him and the creature did not get along, and he would rather avoid him as much as he could.

Once gone the Hatter started to get worried. His dear Chesh would have already shown her beautiful self to them and tried to annoy the Hare. Where could she be? “Chesh? Where are you my rose?” He called her out. A flamboyant yet slightly desperate voice sounded from the ground. “I’m down here, Hatter!” Surprised, he bent over to where his hat lay. “Chesh, dear?” He looked around but saw nothing. 

“Under your hat!” He did as instructed and found a tiny version of his beloved little kitty. “Grell? What’re you doing down there?” He scooped her up in his palm, noting her size was just a bit over his hand's own size. Her ears lay flat against her head and her tail swung to and fro in a worried manner. “The Duchess’ cook made something really good. But when I ate it, I shrunk, and when I tried to grow back, my evaporating skills were gone! And now The Cook threw me out because he thought I was a mouse!” She looked close to tears, so frail and vulnerable. She was the almighty Cheshire! The playful one who would always float and evaporate, the one who told the Alice where to go. How could she do that now that she was nine - maybe ten - inches tall?

“Now, my dear, there’s no need for tears. We’ll just have to find a special berry and make you some Upelkuchen, so you can grow back and be able to evaporate again.” She beamed a smile at him, suddenly taking one of his fingers and purring into the digit. “Yay! My Hatter’s so good to me!” The madman giggled at the strange feeling, picking up his hat and settling it in its proper place. “Well then, let’s be off, my rose.” The two left the set of mismatched tables and went into the woods to find the special berry that would make the Cheshire grow. 

Somewhere along the path, they started to converse. “I don’t know how the mice get around! Everything is so big! I at least can still fly, but I hate being so small!” The other chuckled. “Hehehehe~ I imagine so, specially with big creatures like you trying to eat them up!” He imagined the thought of his little kitten being chased by big, scary-looking mice and laughed. “Me wonders, what if you were the one being chased, instead of being the one doing the chasing?” The Cheshire instantly paled at the thought. She sulked. “It’s not my fault that those tiny ones are the tastiest!” She climbed on to his shoulder so he could relax his hands. “Besides, I’m too pretty a kitty to be eaten by foul creatures.” She humphed and raised her nose to the air in a playful manner.

Laughter erupted from the Hatter, racking his body and almost throwing off his companion had she no decided to float just alongside him. Once settled she sat on his hat this time, her pink-and-purple-striped legs and tail dangling from the edge. A strange thought came to his mind - though strange would then it be normal, for they were in Wonderland after all, and strange was normal there. “And what if I were the one to eat you all up, kitten?” He inquired. She shrugged, though he could not see. “You wouldn’t dare do it.” He smirked. “Oh, but you see, I would.” She hissed in her adorable little manner. He remained unfazed, and continued to persistently pester his now small companion. 

For her part, she was only getting mildly annoyed, knowing how her beloved Hatter loved to mess with people. But she was not expecting it when he grabbed her by her shirt’s collar and leveled her to his eyes - or fringe to be more exact. “You know, kitten, I could really use a snack right about now.” He grinned evilly and licked his lips slowly. His fringe was parted with his free hand, exposing jade and silver-gold eyes that glinted with mischief. His head was then thrown back, his mouth opening wide as the hand that held her was lifted. She peered into the cavern with fear. He wouldn’t, would he? He wouldn’t eat her. He just couldn’t.

“Hatter, stop! Stop it meow!” Her singular way of pronouncing certain words made him want to laugh, but he was having fun as it was and didn’t want to ruin their paltry game. “But I’m so hungry dear Chesh! I didn’t get time to eat my biscuits, so now I’m going to eat you.” He closed his eyes in mock satisfaction at his supposed meal-to-be. She only squirmed harshly, desperately trying to escape.

He was lowering her ever so slowly, tantalizingly. She started to panic, her breathing becoming erratic. “Hatter, I’m serious! Stop.” He just chucked, ignoring her pleas. A distant memory of when she was but a cub about to be eaten by a gigantic lizard surfaced to the front of her mind. “Hatter!” She cried. When he let her fall for just a minute, she panicked, fearing he really might eat her. She had no chance to be eaten nor fly away, as his pale hand snatched her right back into his grasp. “Fresh and tasty, the perfect snack for me!” she intensified her struggles, but she couldn’t do much in this pathetically tiny body. “Hatter, put me down! I don’t like this game.” Tears started to prick warmly at the corners of her eyes. 

“I’ll put you down in my belly!” He cheered, oblivious to his partner’s discomfort. “Hatter! Please! Stop it!” She cried, the tears finally falling down her reddened cheeks. “H-Hatter! I don’t want to play like this! S-stop! No more!” The saltine water fell on the man’s lips, so he opened his eyes to see what was wrong.

His gaze was met with a terrified Cheshire, bawling in his grasp. The smirk he held instantly vanished at the sight. “Chesh? What’s wrong?” He cupped her in his palms, leveling her to his face. She curled up and cried, glistening tears falling to his hands. “Cheshire, darling, tell me?” He pleaded. He was never fond of tears, unless they were caused by laughter - much less on his precious kitten. 

“D-don’t ever - ever - do that again!” She glared at him through her puffed eyes. “I told you I didn’t like that game! Why didn’t you stop!?” Her hands grabbed his larger ones and she dug in her claws. He felt the slight pain, but knew he deserved it. “I was only playing, kitten. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” His finger came up to pat her head soothingly. She recoiled from the touch at first, but then welcomed the comfort.

“I would never want to make you cry, my dear. Lets not fret now, I’ll bring you back to your normal size soon enough.” She sniffled, burying her face in her hands. She didn’t want to admit that he had scared her so. Sure, he could give her a fright every once in a while, but never had she been truly terrified by him. “Just don’t scare me like that again.” Her voice was muffled, but he heard it clear enough to understand and perceive the broken tone.

“I scared you? How so?” The Cheshire stiffened. She was not up for this. “Come on my rose. Tell me what troubles you.” She hesitated, but upon looking at his sincere eyes, opened up like a flower in bloom. “When I was a wee kitty, a monster lizard-man was about to eat me - just like you were.” Her acidic eyes shone with venom at him for a moment. “I was scared, because back then, I didn’t know how to fly. I was already in his mouth when I learnt how to evaporate.” She sniffed, passing a hand through her face to clear it from the tears. The Hatter listened, and was saddened at the thought.

“My poor dear, I’m most sorry.” He wanted to kiss her, but knew that with their current predicament it would be most troublesome. “I had meant for fun yet I made you cry. That is simply unforgivable.” He bent down to pick the berries for the ‘Eat Me’ cake. “Let us go home now so I can fix this and make it up to you, kitten.” She nodded meekly, still slightly terrified.

The pair went back to the Hatter’s crypt and made the cake that would make the Cheshire grow back. “Now remember, not to big of a bite!” He reminded her playfully, to which she gave a slight smile. A ‘That’s better’ thought went through his mind right then. She bit into the bizarre pastry, her size instantly growing back into what it was. She now stood in the counter, taller than her lover thanks to the structure’s added height.

“Oh dear, could it be that my kitten has grown too big for me?” He teased. She came down from her perch and floated before him. “Meow~ Would that be a problem, Hatter?” She purred. He chuckled. “No, I think not. Maybe if you grew even bigger, or if I became smaller, you could eat me instead. It’s only fair, after all.” The redheaded Cheshire smiled her special smile. “That won’t be necessary, darling~ I have another way of making you pay.” She smirked, exposing her glinting teeth. A delightful shudder went down the Hatter’s spine. “And I shall take the punishment that befalls on me then.” He gave her a small bow, awaiting what he knew would be a night of delightful pain for him. He didn’t mind his kitten rough-handling him from time to time, after all.


	4. Not Even Death can keep me from you

A mortician’s work truly was the one for him. He enjoyed receiving his guests - the surprise upon discovering what lay in the wooden boxes his company arrived on, finding tiny or gaping wounds on them; he especially loved finding out their death stories, those were the most wonderful things he could hear to be entertained. The Undertaker really did enjoy his work - some would say he did so far too much. He couldn’t care less for those comments though, mostly letting the townspeople believe what they wanted. Their gossip was what really created his image, after all.

Today, he was embalming his latest guests. The ‘beautifying’ process was - as of late - done when his lady love was around to advise him fashion wise. She was also the one who would snatch the make up right out of his hands and take care of that. “They make the most wonderful of dolls! How could I not be delighted to play with them?” she had said. He had only laughed, amused by her answer; though he understood her reasoning. He would let her do as she pleased. Her art was beautiful, it made her happy and as a bonus, some of his workload got cut off. He wasn’t going to complain anytime soon.

Speaking of which, he glanced at the clock hung on the wall. Five fortyfive. His Red should be arriving soon enough, assuming she didn’t have any overtime to complete today. “One more guest. One more before I clean up for her.” His robes swayed after the man as he went to get his final guest for the night in the main room. Long, ebony clawed hands lifted the box’s lid, the scent of death instantly prominent. It was swiftly placed aside so he could inspect this newcomer.

Blood. Blood covered everything, everywhere. There was so much of it and so much gore, that he couldn’t make out any of his guest’s features. A giddy excitement overcame him. “What fun I’ll have uncovering your secrets! Hehehehe~” His macabre laugh resonated in the lonely room. “I’ll be just a moment.” The silver-haired one called as he descended to the lower floor of his shop, where the autopsies and actual embalming took place. He cleared the examination table and brought out all the necessary implements he would need. He left it as it was, returning to the main room to retrieve his newest acquisition. How he loved being a host.

Giggling, he picked up the body, unmindful of the sticky fluids and gore getting stuck on his drab clothes. 

I’ll have to take a bath after this. My rose likes blood, but this much is unpleasant. No matter… 

“Yuck,” he made a face, upon realizing that all of it was everywhere, covering every single inch of the poor deceased! “Don’t the people have enough courtesy to at least place the dead without any additional bodily extracts like this? Ah, not to fret though, I’ll have it handled before it cakes into your hair.” He reassured the corpse as if it were an old friend. It was strange though, the way the body fit on his...almost familiar? How curious.

The thought was pushed aside as he placed the lifeless body on the table. He looked down at himself and sighed. “It seems I’ll have to get rid of this one. And I liked it too.” He tutted. “Now, what could’ve happened to you?” The Undertaker grabbed a cloth and wet it, wrangling out the excess over the bowl. The rag went first through the corpse's face, glaring out all the blood to reveal pale peach skin. He kept up the work, humming a sea shanty. When he got to the eyes, there was a tiny scar above the right brow. It was barely visible, but it rang a bell in his mind. Curiosity ate at him, but the idea was ludicrous. With a sigh, he went to clear the blood that was near the mouth. The corpse’s lips parted as the cloth was scrubbed, exposing those unique teeth he loved; the sharp edged teeth his lover had.

Panic set in, it had to be a rouse. “Grell!? Grell, love, wake up now!” He hurriedly cleaned the rest of the gore off, stripping the body till it only wore underpants. He trembled. This wasn’t true. There were gashes and scratch marks all over her torso and legs; he had barely realized the state the clothes were in under all that gore. Her skin was colder than usual. There was no response from the spitfire he called his. She was immobile. A Reaper’s heart didn’t beat, they didn’t need to breathe. If the wounds hadn’t cleared up by then, it meant that they were performed by a Death Scythe, and as such, it was true that she could be dead.

But he couldn’t allow himself to believe that. She was a fighter. She was a powerful Reaper underneath all her flamboyant eccentricities. There was no way that she could be gone. No, she had promised to never leave him. She had promised to always stay at his side, as did he. “And not even Death will tear us apart, for my soul will always find its way back to you.” That was their promise. He trembled at the thought of being alone once more. He had been on the brink of losing it. The mortician had been so lonely, so desperate for someone - and there she came, his crimson rose. She gave him laughter and shown him love. He in return respected and cherished her. She was his everything, and while true neither needed the other, they wanted their company.

“And now, what am I supposed to do without you, my rose?” He claimed the rag once more, cleansing her skin delicately and with the ultimate gentleness. He caressed her, feeling her soft skin. His hands passed by her sides and torso, admiring her beauty, even in Death. “U-unny! Don’t do that! It tickles!” She had giggled so delightfully. His eyes prickled at the memory. He loved her laugh, her smile, her everything. Every inch of hers was his to adore. He went down, clearing her thighs and in between her legs. A memory of passionate nights came to the forefront of his mind. The way she looked at him with lustful eyes and called his name so pleadingly would never again be reality.

“A child, Unny. I’ve always wanted to be a mother, to - for once- give life instead of taking it. I know it’s ironic, us being Reapers and our purpose being to take life, not give it. And I know, I-I’m physically a male, but my soul yearns for one. My greatest desire, aside from having you, is to bear children. Your children.” That was his love’s biggest dream, and at some point, it became his. He wanted to keep her happy, and he was reminded that he did in fact do that; but this was something he began to wish alongside her. To create their own family. He had secretly began consulting the Ancient Magic for a spell he knew existed, yet had never performed. An old rite that could change the physical body of any being. Now, he wouldn’t need to do that. She was not around anymore.

He kept washing her, taking extra care in properly cleansing her hair. He knew how proud she was of it. On her days off she would wash it thoroughly, apply any and every kind of whatever it was that she put on her hair to make it as lucious as it was, brushing it till the knots were removed. She never let anyone brush it for her, anyone but him - and even that was on occasion. “You may have long hair like mine, but that by no means signifies that we take the same care for it!” That’s what she had said the first time, and repeated sporadically. She was fickle, and would not hesitate to show it.

Memories and memories of their time together flooded him, not finding any release in his salty tears. He prepared her for her grandest event, or what should never have even been an event for her to take a role in. Her event should have been the one in which she wore a white dress and held a bouquet of her favorite flowers. The one in which no one could stop staring at her beauty and her smile glowed like the sun. The event where she would walk down the aisle, and fully become the ruler of his heart, bound to him for eternity, like the ring she would from then on wear. She was supposed to marry him, not be buried. He looked at her hand, admiring the graceful band of silver with a ruby glint in the middle.

“Yes! Yes, a million times yes!” she had sang, hardly caring to look at the gifted ring - rather focusing on the man before her. She held him tightly, bestowing feathery kissed on his face before claiming his lips in a feverish passion. She had devoted herself to him, as he had done to her. They had promised themselves to the other, so willingly to give their hearts. Now he knew, that fate was cruel. It had given him a chance at happiness, only to snatch it away at its best point. And she had to be the one that paid. It wasn’t fair, she could never be taken by any other than himself.

That sobered him. If she was dead, then there could be no Cinematic Record in her. He reached for his scythe. “My lady, forgive me for this.” He carefully swiped it through her skin, barely cutting it at all. There was no sign of a record. Nothing came out. She was empty, and therefore, she was truly gone.

He threw his Scythe aside in rage and pain. It clattered noisily on the floor, crashing vials and other things in its wake. He couldn’t care less. Let the earth burn, like he’d give a damn. Perhaps the fire would claim him, and take him back to his love. It would be paradise, wherever he went as long as he was with his lovely redheaded spitfire.

Alas, nothing of the sort happened within the next minutes in which he finished cleaning her. He went to their room -it was theirs, no longer only his- to pick out something red. He chose her favorite gown she had never gotten to wear. Velvet in color and simple in structure. It was a bit more advanced than the Victorian fashion, yet it contained some of that style. The silvery swirling designs encased the torso area, bringing out her curves as the skirt flowed to her ankles. It was like dressing a doll, just as she had said. If so, she was by far the prettiest and most beautiful one he had ever had the luck to encounter. He slipped in her heels, and clasping a necklace to her throat, alongside a choker she had bought one day and deemed her favorite. He hesitated to add any make-up. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, he had done it for so many of his clients he had lost count, but she was already so perfect to him, she didn’t need it. Her pale skin had a peachy tone to it, she had adorable little freckles that hardly ever showed themselves, full pink lips and the most gorgeous of lashes that would frame pools of molten jade and gold.

“A lady must always make an effort to look her best, darling. Especially if she is to go out with a her beloved man and he is as handsome as yourself.” As my lady desires, he thought, searching through her bag of cosmetics and picking out what he normally saw her prefer. There was not much he would do, but only highlight what she already had. He finished with his task, caressing her cheek. He took a few strands of hair, weaving them into the braid he usually wore; that way, she would always have a reminder of him and of how much he cherished her. 

“You look as beautiful as ever, my rose. I shall be back with a coffin fit for the grandest of Queens.” He left to the front, picking the one he had been working on most recently. It had onyx wood and it was lined with gray satin with silver trimmings. It was the perfect background. She would shine like a flame, drawing everyone to her. The retired Reaper went to fetch his beloved’s body, placing it tactfully in the casket. He adjusted the skirts and her crimson locks, going to the back of his garden to pick a few of the roses he grew exclusively for her. Those were placed in her glove covered hands with care. 

“You seem asleep, my darling. Would you wake, if I gave you a kiss?” He sounded broken. So lost and distraught. There was no response from the corpse. He cupped her cheek, closing the distance between them. He placed his lips over his lover’s colder ones. Nothing happened, but he poured his soul into it as a parting gift. Their last kiss.

She kissed back, slowly moving her lips to his. ‘How mad must I be, to imagine such things?’ But the feeling persisted, claiming him as she so often did. He retreated, watching as those eyes, those same eyes he could get lost in, started to open, her hands curling among the flower stems and a painful whimper crossing her mouth. “U-Unnie,” she called, voice raspy. It was impossible, his face was bewildered. This had to be a joke. What of this was a dream? Her death, or her being alive?

“Grell!? Grell what-”

“It hurts, Unnie. Everything hurts.” she wailed, cutting him off. He went to her, cradling her lithe form. “What happened?” He questioned. How was he supposed to react, there was no sense in what was going on.

“A Demon. I was reaping and a Demon got in the way. He did a number on me, so I think I slipped into Reaper Sleep. I think Sebastian killed it anyway, it was after his master after all.” She clutched the front of his robes, seeking comfort. “Can I have some water please?” He nodded absentmindedly. “Sure, just a minute.” She noticed his distanced way, and was instantly concerned. There was no chance at asking, for he had put her back in the coffin and left.

Reaper Sleep. How did he not think of that? When a Reaper was badly injured, their bodies would seem to ‘shut down’ so that they could heal properly. When in that state, only a large wound by a Death Scythe would be able to expel the Cinematic Records they held. How dreadfully silly of me! All of that pain, for nothing!? He didn’t complain, glad that she was in fact alive and recovering well.

He returned with a beaker of water, handing it over to her. She drank from it greedily, thankful for the moisture it brought to her sore throat. 

“Undertaker, darling...Why exactly am I in a coffin?” He couldn’t help it. He drowned in laughter. He cried, ha laughed, he simply didn’t know what to do. He slipped, falling ungracefully to the floor. She watched him from her perch in the casket. “Unny? What’s wrong?” He kept laughing until it subsided into chuckles and he could at least make an attempt to answer properly.

“M’dear, I -hehehehehe- I thought you were dead!” He rolled over, laughing once more. A confused glance was thrown his way. “You arrived here in a box full of blood, and I took you for one of my guests. Then when I found who it was - do not ever scare me so again!- I prepared you for your funeral.” He would best leave out the part in which he cut her with his Scythe for now. She only looked at him, no one emotion on her face. She was as bewildered as he. But his smile was contagious, as well as his laugh. She joined him soon on the floor, clinging to his side. “How did that thought ever cross your mind! I vowed I’d never leave you!” she kissed him passionately, as if to assure him she was real, and he welcomed the touch.

“Next time, just kiss me, you know that is something I’ll never resist.” She giggled, placing her lips fleetingly on his neck and up his face. “Oh, there won't be a ‘next time’ for this as long as I have a say.” He practically growled, taking her in for another steamy kiss. She readily accepted.

“I’m so telling Ronnie about this, and William.” She whispered mischievously against his ear, attempting to escape his embrace. “You’ll do no such thing, my love. If anything, this will be forgotten.” No luck for her, he only held the redhead tighter. 

“You’ll be laughing at this soon enough. Oh look, you’re laughing now.” He didn’t have the strength to deny her. “Shut it you.” He brought her to him, eliminating any space between them. There was no way he’d let go of her for another few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot was a request by TheVillanousNoble on FF.net I was in love with this prompt since I read it! I hope it came out as amazing as I think it did and that you guys enjoy it.


	5. Waking up to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. Just a bunch of Fluff.

Bright sunlight poured into the dreary coffin shop belonging to the eccentric mortician, Undertaker. It was early morning, and he knew he should be getting up to start the day - there was only so much time his guests could wait before they needed to be treated or they would start stinking up the whole place. Yet the gentle warmth provided by the red-headed creature that slept at his side beckoned the Reaper to stay in the cozy coffin for a while longer. The silver Reaper sighed contentedly, settling next to his lover. He closed his eyes, but remained awake. ‘I’ll just have to be a bit quicker in my work, ‘tis all.’ He reassured himself.

The legendary was drifting to his dreams once more, when a soft caress brought him back to reality. Gentle hands traced his cheeks and went to his lips. His eyes lazily opened behind his curtain of bangs to observe the beauty beside him. She lay sideways, crimson lock splayed around her like a halo of blood. Her gaze was tender, just like her touch. Undertaker closed his eyes after sneaking a peek at hers; they were gorgeous. Even in the morning, they were full of fire, full of life. They shone with all her emotions, love being prominent at the time - just about any other time she was with him.

Her hands pushed back his bangs, exposing his now closed eyes. He still felt her adoring gaze on his frame. Grell rubbed the back of her hand on his face lovingly, trailing down to his neck. ‘Should I kiss my silver knight awake?’ She giggled mentally at the thought. It’s the prince that wakes up the lady, not the other way around, though, as she thought it over, she wouldn’t mind it, if it was him. Her hands came to rest at the sides of his face, cupping his smooth cheeks. She pulled closer to him, inhaling the Reaper’s unique scent. Her lips stopped short of his.

This was silly. Why wake him? He was always so good to her, she should let him sleep. What was she, to a legend like him, anyway? She wanted his kiss so badly, she bit her own lips to restrain herself. This wasn’t a fairy-tale, princes and princesses were not like in her stories. She would crawl back to her spot next to him, and await for him to rise.

Strong arms enveloped her waist and the back of her neck, closing what little space there was between them. Their lips met in her so desired kiss, having her gasp in surprise. A wet tongue explored her mouth, easily winning dominance over hers. Low rumbles came from the mortician’s chest as he hummed in pleasure. She kissed back, but he was gone almost as soon as he had come. She let a whimper of protest at the loss, for which he only giggled.

“Goodmorning, my dear.” He nuzzled her neck affectionately. “Slept well?” She hummed, “Yeah, did you?” Soft butterfly kisses were placed on her throat. “Of course. It felt so good to hold you, I’ve never slept better.” He confessed, nipping down to her chest. She shivered, enjoying the treatment bestowed on her body. 

His head came back up to meet hers. “If you ever want to kiss me awake, then do so. I will always savour every single one.” He practically purred, claiming her lips once more, as if to take his point across. Eagerly, she responded, twining her hands on his silver hair.

“My princess, you are mine, as I am yours. I do not mind it if you wake me like that, because I’ll know, I have a lady that wants me, and there is no better feeling than that for me.” He whispered, hugging her close.

“Know that your knight will always be there to care and to cherish you. I will always stand by you and wake you up with a kiss and a smile.”


	6. The Universe might not hate Me

An increase in Demon Activity had come upon mortal England, and now, being as understaffed as ever, William had brought it to himself to ask the Undertaker for his help. He had agreed, ‘Just for the kick of laughter and old time’s sake’. It was then decided that, since they were dealing with Demons, they should work in pairs rather than alone. A raffle was drawn to pick the teams. William and Ronald, Alan and Eric - though everyone already knew those two were working together, raffle or not- and then, Undertaker’s name came out. The unpaired Reapers were all anxious, wishing to be the one who would work with such a legend. The paper strip was drawn and carefully opened. They all held their breaths but Grell, who simply couldn’t care less. She would’ve rather worked with any of the already paired Reapers, specially Ronnie. They already knew how to work together, or perhaps Will. She only hoped that whomever it was, wouldn’t disrespect her nor get in her way. Grell was sick of everyone at that point.

The Reaper in charge took placed the slip at the level of his eyes, inwardly cursing. “Grell Sutcliff” He read with disdain. Her head snapped up, startled from her thoughts. Most of them glared, but Ronald, Alan and Eric smiled encouragingly. Only William remained as stoic as ever, but she knew that even he was a bit jealous. Rolling her eyes, she went to pick the bag of supplies that were handed to the pairs for their assignment, not waiting for her partner to catch up. She would’ve made more of a show of having gotten paired up with the Realm’s most powerful, and admittedly the handsomest, Reaper, but found that she didn’t have the energy for that. It would just be another reason for them to hate her. Not that they needed any more. Her being a ‘gender confused, sexual nuisance and over all screw up’ was more than enough. 

A slender hand picked the pack before hers could reach it. “Hehehehe~ looks like we’ll be partners, eh Miss?” She shrugged, calling out a ‘Seems so’, before departing. He followed after her, a mental frown developing. Whatever could be wrong with that Reaper today? She certainly wasn’t acting like her usual, overzealous self. He was left wondering, as they immediately had to report for duty in London. And then she had taken to destroying Demon after Demon, not waiting nor caring if he intervened. Her chainsaw ripped them in half, blood splattering everywhere. They came at them from all over, but she took them head on. He would eliminate the ones that were out of her range, but he noticed her lack of sense. She was being too brash, too impulsive. She thought with her Death Scythe, and those thoughts were only one: kill. Everything close, would die; that was her apparent rule. 

A Demon sprang at her from behind just as she finished off another one. She turned at the sound, but wasn’t fast enough to slay it. Her arms raised to protect herself, but it wasn’t enough, the creature’s claws sank into her flesh, making a deep cut along her arm. She yelped in pain and surprise, screwing her eyes shut and bringing her arm closer to her chest. 

A silver blade sank easily into the Demon’s shoulder, promptly swaying downwards and shredding it to pieces. A huff was released by the wielder, who let it clatter to the ground as he went to inspect his fallen partner. Blood was gushing out quickly, too much would soon be lost. The Demon’s poison would spread if it was left untreated for long, eventually leading her to demise. He picked her lithe form in his arms, hardly caring for her weakening protests. At least she’s still conscious. He sighed, dematerializing both their scythes into ‘Storage’. He went to their assigned camping space, an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city in a few leaps through the rooftops. 

He passed the threshold, the crimson liquid pooling at his feet. He ignored it, and went to the main bedroom. It was bare of all furniture, but the services like light and water still worked. It hadn't been left alone for long, it seemed. 

The bathroom door clicked open, the lights were turned on. They flickered, but the otherwise yellowish illumination remained. The redhead was set down in the toilet seat, while the other opened the tap at the tub, letting out a rush of cold, rusty water. He let it be, for the rust and grime would clear out soon. For now, his attention was focused on his partner. She hadn’t said a word, and it didn’t look like she’d speak soon.

He removed her black trench with care, her adored crimson one being replaced to avoid damage. Acidic eyes widened, but he didn’t notice, too focused on getting the vest off her shivering body. When he went to slip the garment off, a gloved hand clutched his weakly. “D-don’t.” He peered at his companion curiously. Her voice quivered with uncertainty, and was that fear? “I need to take it off, if I am to heal your wounds, m’dear.” Ivory hands pushed hers away, intent on divesting her so he could get to the gash.

“No! Don’t!” Her eyes set ablaze with panic, hands and limbs moving to shuffle back, to get away. At that he stopped. What was wrong? Why was she afraid? And of what, of him? Surely not. She couldn’t be. Still, he tried to reason with her muddled mind. “Grell, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you want to take it off yourself?” He spied tears brimming her eyes, and worried. The sounds of water running were ignored, but only after he plugged the tub so it would fill now that the water was coming out clean. His attention was back on her, and she squirmed under his gaze. Not that she could see it past his fringe, but she got the feeling all the same.

She whimpered, knowing what had to be done. “Y-you take it off. I-I can’t.” Gaze downcast, she let her own bangs cover her blushing face. Undertaker studied her for a minute and realized, ‘She’s ashamed’. What other explanation was there? She, though biologically male, was entirely a woman in her mind. Proper women don’t appear bare-chested before men. He smiled sadly, poor creature. He took the vest and set it aside with the coat, and took off the arm garters, slightly wincing when he saw the gash. Ever so carefully, as if he were tending to one of his guests, he slipped off the shirt, making sure it wouldn’t pull on her raw skin.

A pale chest was revealed, and as his gaze traveled downwards, he noticed the feminine curvature of her body. She had a flat stomach, no abdominal marks marred her skin. He shook the thought away. Now was not the time. He reached down and pulled off her ankle-boots, stowing them to the side. Pulling the socks revealed cute little feet with crimson painted toe-nails. He ran a claw along her sole, to see if he could entice a laugh, but to no avail; her toes only curled in response.

Now came the hard part. He swallowed, knowing this would be quite awkward. To distract himself a moment, he shut the tap, the water ceasing to flow. He pushed back his bangs, revealing the hidden eyes. Slowly, he turned, letting his eyes meet her half-naked form. “Grell,” he called softly, she raised her head, profoundly blushing. “Yes?” she questioned. He gulped, hoping she wouldn’t get all temperamental on him now. 

“Your pants need to go.”

The panicked look set back in her eyes. “Please no.” She never begged, but right now, her tone was close to it. The tears from before came back, springing down her cheeks. He lowered himself to her height, placing his hands in her sight. “Grell, I swear upon my Scythe and everything I hold dear, I will not harm you, nor will I touch you in a way that makes you uncomfortable.” He took her hands in his, looking deeply at those fiery eyes, now dowsed with fear. She calmed, nodding slightly. He was afraid something had broken her, someone had. He made haste to removing them, never letting his eyes wander nor stray. It was hard, when his partner had creamy thighs and thin, yet shapely legs.

Grell knew he was watching, she felt it, but was too afraid to call him out. She could only stay still, wishing for this torture to be over. It was bad enough that she considered that her body didn’t match her personality, but to have a man see the reason as to why she wasn’t considered a woman… it was simply embarrassing. 

“Done. Let’s get you in the water so I can treat it properly.” He had sensed her apprehension, and decided to let her keep the underwear on. It wasn’t necessary to remove it anyway. He scooped her up and set her in the tub. She squeaked and protested, at the movement, then at the cold water, but he just giggled. “It’ll pass, it’ll pass.” The Undertaker retrieved a bucket from near the sink. Meanwhile, she curled in on herself, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her uninjured arm around them.

The bucket was filled and poured onto her head without warning. She sputtered, sending him a half glare. “Hehehe~ sorry, m’lady. Close your eyes now, another one’s coming.” She did as told and felt the water rushing down her back. Soon, his hands encased her left arm cautiously. Ever so delicately, they washed away the blood and stitched the wound. She hardly felt anything, completely enraptured in the way his fingers moved so gracefully against her skin.

“No panties? I thought you were the type of person to wear the lacy kind.” He snickered. The other gasped and had him soaked for the crude comment. The silver haired only laughed it off, ignoring the fabric and his hair sticking to him. “My apologies, my humor tends to get ahead of myself at times.” He went to cleaning the gore off her locks now.

“That wasn’t funny.” She hid her head between her knees, whispering, “It’s not that I don’t want to wear them, they just don’t fit this stupid body.” He heard it all the same, and cursed at his insensitivity. “Sorry, dear. It was not my intention to hurt. I hardly can tell what’s insulting from what's not anymore.” He bestowed a sweet kiss atop her head in apology. She blushed at the tenderness of the moment, though still squirmed in unease.

He continued to cleanse her in silence, admiring her. She always seemed so strong, so untouchable. He knew the other Reapers had nasty things to say about the redhead, and he knew she heard most, but she never seemed affected by it. Then this came to mind, she simply never showed it. She wouldn’t -couldn’t- give them another reason to be the butt of their jokes. A sad sigh passed his lips.

Her skin was soft, as well as her hair. She smelled like blood - no wonder- and cherries; a strangely alluring scent. He concentrated on not caressing her body as he sorely felt the need to. She seemed so fragile, so vulnerable, yet he knew, one wrong move and even in this state and without a scythe she would do something that -though unsure of what it could be- he knew it would hurt. That time she had shoved him in a pot of salt was proof enough.

The bath was soon over and he lifted her out, wrapping her carefully and cradling her to his chest. She shivered at the draft that came in, clutching his robes like a child. He held her tighter, shielding her from the cold. “Come, let’s get you dressed.” They went back into the room, him setting her down on wobbly feet, but never leaving her hand until she stood straight. He unwrapped her from the towel, taking it upon himself to dry her. She did not complain this time, but it was obvious she wasn’t completely comfortable with the situation. “I can take it from here.” she stepped back, and he let her have her space. A gentle smile graced his features. “Of course.” He went to the bag and brought out a spare robe, throwing it in her direction. “Put it on, it’s more comfortable to sleep in, and it’s warmer too.” She nodded and thanked him, pleased that she would be covered soon.

He stepped into the bathroom to take a shower himself. The redhead slipped on the garment and a fresh set of underwear, sighing in bliss. The warmth was appreciated, and she couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy the Undertaker’s scent around her. Deciding that he had done her good and that she needed to repay the favor, she set up a fire in the hearth with the old coals and the oil she normally used to smoothen her skin. No matter, she could always get more, and the fact that it burned with a soft vanilla scent made the musk in the air fade away. Next, she took out the air mattress, but frowned upon noticing there was only one. This couldn’t be happening. So not only did she have to be revealed in such a way to him, but now she also had to share a bed? Unbelievable. I knew it, the Universe hates me. Gee, thanks.

Huffing, she inflated it, there was no use in getting all prissy about it. She stroked the fire and laid on the mattress, yet did not fall asleep. Soon after he came in, covering only his waist in a towel and dripping wet. “Ah, that felt good. How’s your arm coming along, m’dear?” She turned away from him, facing the floor and drawing patterns on the dust with shaky fingers. “It’s doing better, thanks.” Indeed, one of the -if not- the handsomest Reaper she had ever laid eyes on. Neither William nor ‘Bassy’ could compare. He went near the fire to dry and change. He went to find his mattress or wherever he would be sleeping and set it up, but as his hands grasped the bag, she spoke without looking.

“There’s only one. I already looked.” He lifted his eyes to observe her. He only saw her back and flowing red hair. She lay still, as if nervous of his response. “Hehe~ Oh well, I’ll take the floor then.” He shrugged it off, he’d had to sleep in worse before. The mortician was about to settle down when she turned to face him. “It’s okay. You can sleep here too.” It was hard to tell what was more prominent in her eyes, as a plethora of feelings could be seen in those deep pools of emerald and gold. “Just stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine - and we never speak of this again.” She turned again, this time closing her eyes and curling in on herself. He stood, unsure of what to do. While he deliberated, his silver-spun hair was woven into a braid. He decided to follow her advice, there was no harm done in sleeping in the same bed if nothing did happen. 

Grell had stopped breathing, and he knew she was asleep. He would follow soon, though he was not as tired as the one who had butchered hundreds of Demons without rest for an incredibly long period of time. He smiled, impressed at her resilience and resistance. She was strong; so unlike the other Reapers. He smirked, glad to have been partnered with her and not someone else who would do anything he said blindly just because he had been a legend.

He flopped down on ‘his side’ of the mattress, wincing when he almost felt the floor. However, he didn’t notice his companion’s body being thrown into the air until he heard a shrill yelp and the following thud of when she landed. “What the hell was that for!?” She yelled from the ground, very much awake and very much enraged at being woken so rudely. “What? You jumped, I did nothing!” He defended, unsure of what had actually happened. For you see, a Legend he may have been, he wasn’t well aware of the workings of the modern, mortal world.

“Not your fault? Like hell!” She spat, jumping to the air and landing in her spot on the mattress, causing an effect that launched her partner into the air. It was then that he learned exactly what happens in two cases: one, you jump into an air mattress, and you throw your partner; and two, you do not want to be on the receiving end of Grell’s wrath upon a harsh wake up call - especially if it was your fault she woke up. She proceeded to pounce on him, crushing him against the floor and latching on to his shoulders for support, her legs encasing his torso.

“Never again. Never again dare wake me up like that.” She seethed. He nodded. “I agree. Sorry for that, hehehe~ this old fossil knows no new tricks as of late.” He rose, tumbling her so that she sat between his chest and bent legs, straddling him. She yelped, and he chuckled. “Something wrong?” He smirked, a hand grabbing her hip while he leaned their weight on the other one. “N-no. Just let me go.”

A puff of air removed the fringe from his face. “Why would I do that?” She wiggled, trying to escape, but he only squeezed her tighter. She looked away, hiding her eyes with velvet bangs. “B-because, people might talk.”

“So? There’s no one here to say anything.”

“Why do you want me here anyway?”

“Why wouldn’t I, pretty Reaper?”

She blushed profoundly, tainting her face pink. “I like having you near. You add a nice splash of color to my life. I like you, and all I want to do, is to keep you for myself.” She froze. There was simply no way he could be telling the truth! No, it had to be a lie, he was just bored and wanted a good laugh.

“Such pretty words you say. Too bad they are lies.” Grell maneuvered her way out of his grasp, standing up and heading to the other side of the room. “I’ve heard enough fake ‘I like you’s’ and ‘I love you’s’. I don’t care for another one, much less if it’s only a joke. I’m not a joke.” Her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes glanced at the night sky. Stumped, Undertaker glanced at her wearily. He stood, following her, but not coming as close as he would’ve liked. 

“Whyever would I lie about such precarious things? And to a rose such as yourself no less? I mean what I say, when I say I want you near, that your company to me is most enjoyable. I love your smile and your laugh, so pretty and contagious that they are. There’s nothing more appealing to me, than your smile. What a delightful personality you hold. The real one, the one you keep hidden beneath all that you show.” He came to stand behind her, claiming her hand and turning her around so that she could see his face. “You’re extravagant, impulsive, temperamental and a wee bit nuts,” he giggled, “but you hide such a lovely heart, that those traits only enlighten you, my dear.”

Tears brimmed her eyes, unsure of what she could believe. His hand held hers, and as they rarely did, their eyes met. “Not only that, but above all you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. How lucky would I be if I could call you mine.” His right hand came up to rest on her cheek, caressing it softly, wiping away the fallen tears. Her arms laced behind his neck, pulling him closer. She cried, not even sure of what she was feeling. Was this hoard of butterflies in her tummy, love? Could it possibly be that that little crush she had for the Legend, be evolving into something more?

For, to be honest, she had always found him quite intriguing, handsome -even when he appeared to be creepy. He was a genius, albeit a twisted, dark one. It didn’t matter to her, all that did was that he was so kind to her, regardless of what she did to deserve otherwise. Sure, he would tease her just as much as the next fellow, but there was always that lack of bite - like he only did it for light fun, not for anything more.

“Please, don’t cry. Such lovely lady is not fit for tears, unless they are of joy.” He unlatched himself to look at her gorgeous eyes, so unlike his own, even if they were supposed to be the same. She smiled slightly, “You’re the first to say so.” He laughed humorlessly. “Well, I shouldn’t be.” She sank into his loving caress, sighing in bliss. “Sorry for doubting you, my heart has been shattered one too many times already.” She covered the hand that was on her cheek with hers, turning her head to kiss it softly. He graced her with a genuine smile. “And I am willing to pick it all up and sew it back together, if only to have you love again.”

She grinned, “Yet you don’t ask me to be the one loving you in return. Why’s that?”

“Because, my dear, I am so hopelessly in love, that I am willing to part with you, if it is what makes you happy. I do not need you to live, or to be happy, rather I want you. Despite everything, I want to be with you.” Grell’s stomach fluttered in ways it had never done before, her pulse raced and everything felt so warm. “Well, it’s a good thing then, that I want you too.” She brought him closer by grabbing his robes and pulling down on them. She stood on the tips of her toes, and pressed her lips firmly to his.

He welcomed the invitation, bending over and snaking his arms around her waist. What an interesting Reaper she was. So full of love and passion, and now -he giggled inwardly- he had her to himself. There was no way he’d let go of this blessing. He kissed her tenderly at first, but soon her passion won him over.

“The others are so going to hate me now.” She giggled once they parted. “I’ve got the best Reaper of all.” He laughed with her, scooping her up in his arms. “Let them, you and I...hehehe~ We’ll just make fun of them.” She chuckled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Undertaker let themselves be dropped onto the mattress, this time, holding her close to himself so as not to have her flying off. He brought a blanket over them, flushing the younger Reaper to his chest. She snuggled into him, relishing in the feel of loving arms encasing her. 

“Sleep well, Grell.” He kissed her once more, closing his eyes. “You too, Undertaker.”

He grinned, ‘I love you’ was whispered into the crimson Reapers slumbering form, and for the first time, she couldn’t help but think ‘Perhaps, the Universe doesn’t hate me so much after all.’


	7. 100 Word Challenge

\- Resplendent

Her hair was the first thing that caught his attention, but after seeing her eyes, he had to admit that those resplendent orbs were his favorite trait about her.

\- Grace

To the mortician it seemed that she was made entirely of grace. That is, until she did some clumsy act and reminded him that he was quite graceful too.

\- Fathomless

‘Fathomless’, he thought, ‘would be the perfect word to describe our love. It is something you cannot grasp, but something we can both feel.’

\- Grandeur

There wasn’t much grandeur to a mortician’s job, but if it meant she could spend time with the mortician himself, Grell wouldn’t mind doing some of the dirty work.

\- Cure

She was the cure to his boredom. He was the cure to her loneliness. What they didn’t yet know, was that they were the other’s cure for heartbreak.

\- Champion

He came victorious from the fight against the Demons, and was named Champion of Reapers. However, during that fight, he had become the Champion of her Heart.

\- Enchanting

Enchanting as she was during the day, he dared say that the time she looked the best was when she rose from her sleep; her hair messed about and his crumpled shirts -and only his shirts- covering her lithe frame. Her eyes would smile, and a sleep-laced voice would greet him.

\- Place

The place was far from what was conventionally romantic, them being stuck on some underground catacombs in Paris; though she wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, if she was to be without him.

\- Awe

It was a matter of awe, how beautiful and unique his eyes were. They were the standard reaper green and yellow, but there was something in them that left her awed at what she saw.

\- Object

The Undertaker fiddled with the silver chain and locked in his hands. He sure hoped this was to his lover’s liking and would earn him some leeway in the discussion he knew was bound to happen.

\- Glamour

He had always thought she pictured herself in a life of glamour. He wasn’t exactly wrong. “Yes. I already do, by living with the man I love, and having him adore me. Isn’t that better than any other sort of glamour?”

\- Join

At the unraveling of his Bizarre Dolls, he couldn’t help but wonder if he could convince Grell to leave the Dispatch and join him instead.

\- Astounding

It was with astounding accuracy and determination that Grell fought against the Legend on the Campania, ignoring her gut saying that perhaps, what he was doing wasn’t so bad after all.

The most astounding thing was that thought, which she wisely kept silent.

\- Lace

The lace lingerie she wore when she strutted into their room froze him in his spot. A tattletale line of drool made its way past his lips as an intense heat built up in his core. Looks like he wasn’t entirely forgiven, for the smirk she wore on her porcelain face. Though if this was his punishment, there wasn’t much to complain about.

Then he learnt he wasn’t allowed to touch her at all.

\- Monster

“You did bad things, love, but that’s something we all do.” He cupped her cheek and placed a chaste kiss on her porcelain flesh. “You’re not the monster you think you are. And even so, I’ve made my fair share of wrongdoings; we can be monsters together, and I’ll love you to the absolute end.”

\- Passage

The passage between life and death was a thin line. One could easily fall in one or in the other, were they to be stuck in limbo. When Grell heard his voice, calling for her, she knew that she’d have to fight for her life, to get back to her silver love.

\- Fear

Fear plagued her heart when Undertaker didn’t show up that night. He had gone on a mission, surprisingly by the Dispatch - and had yet to return; a day after he was supposed to be back.

\- Judge

He was no judge to her actions, antics and quirks. That would probably be the first reason for her to take an interest in the mortician.

\- Purge

He purged her of her loneliness, and purged her of all self-doubt. She in turn would purge his nightmares and take away his fears.

\- Vice

He was like a drug, a vice that held on to her heart - and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

\- Sanctuary

The Undertaker’s Funeral Parlour was her sanctuary away from work. And it wasn’t simply because she could avoid her tasks, but also because she got to spend time with a proper man who knew how to treat her like a lady.

\- Pay

Grell could play all the tricks that she wanted, but at the end of the day, the Undertaker would come to collect his pay.

\- Check

Undertaker checked his appearance on the aged mirror once more. He felt silly for behaving like a schoolboy on his first date. Then again, he might as well be.

\- Pit

There was always a pit in her stomach that would fill itself with a hoard of frenzied butterflies when he looked at her with loving eyes.

\- Service

It wasn’t in his nature to give his services free of charge, much less give the amount of information he had given, though for her, he couldn’t help but make the exception.

\- Serious

He wasn’t one to be serious, never really was, but he had his moments. One of those was when he went down to his knees and asked her to marry him.

\- State

It seemed Grell was intent on keeping him on a state all morning. It was a good thing he enjoyed the attention and could return the favor with lustful eyes and charming smiles.

\- Model

In her mind, she was the sexiest model to ever live. However, she didn’t know that he agreed to that theory wholeheartedly. 

\- Darling

‘Darling’ was a word she used for everyone. He wasn’t exactly happy to share the endearment.

\- Certain

There were things that the Undertaker was certain of. One, he despised the Dispatch and was glad to have left, and two, he would marry the volatile, redheaded, passionate reaper once she got back from her mission (Assigned by the Dispatch, of course- how he loathed it).

\- Precious

He couldn’t even begin to describe how precious she was to him, for even he did not know how badly he had given his heart away, and stolen hers in return.

\- Awake

The moments in which she really felt awake, were those in which he would be with her. Be it with loving words or a caressing touch, he made her body wake and her heart soar.

\- Pure

There was nothing really pure about her, but the intentions of her love to the mortician. Even so, she would always be the purest thing he ever did see.

\- Bake

Baking was one of her favorite activities, and if she was accompanied by her lover, even more so.

\- Bells

The bells rang loudly with a cheerful tune, announcing to all that the couple coming out of the church was newly wed.

\- Clouds

The lay on a grassy knoll by a lake, gazing at the clouds and guessing what they resembled.

\- Changing

It was astounding to see how things had changed for them both since their unlikely meeting. Still more impressive, was how they kept changing for the better.

\- Ring

Grell was in a trance, looking at something unseen to the Reaper before her. “Uh, Sempai?” Ronald asked, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. She glanced up, a blush covering her face. “Oh, sorry Ron. I just can't stop thinking about this.” She held up her slender hand, showing off the silver band with ruby drops on her finger. “I just can’t believe I’m getting married to the love of my life.” 

“Don’t worry, you’re not the only one that can’t belive it.” Ronald stated as he got up and left the office, leaving a confused reaper in his wake. 

\- Don’t

“Don’t leave me, please don’t go,” he begged to her, knowing that soon, he would have to reap his lover’s soul. “Please don’t die, stay with me.”

\- High

Grell loved climbing to the highest places and watching the people below. She especially loved it when a Legendary Reaper would come chasing her and make it into a game of tag.

\- Mysterious

He was mysterious, shrouded in darkness and mad laughs. Everything about him drew the redhead into this mystery of a Legend.

\- Creature

Grell was a beautiful creature, and he was incredibly glad to call her his own.

\- Hush

“Hush, my love,” He cradled her in his arms, “a beautiful face like yours was not made for tears of sadness.” She snuggled into him, letting his voice and gentle pats soothe her. 

\- Little one

Compared to him, Grell was but a baby. He learnt not to call her ‘Little one’ if he ever wanted to have her for his own.

\- Trap

He knew it was a trap. He also knew that if he didn’t do anything, she would die. It would seem he’d have to risk it all, if he ever did want to see her again.

Too bad for her captors, he knew how to evade some traps and make some of his own.

\- Alarm

“Shut up, useless thing!” The Undertaker clutched the ringing device and threw it across the room. A gentle kiss was placed on the crook of his neck by his lover. “Unny, dear… I need that.” He clutched her closer to himself. “No, and you’re not going anywhere.” He pouted childishly and she couldn’t help but laugh.

\- Clutched

The Mad Hatter specially loved it when his little Cheshire would come along and clutch his jacket’s lapels, planting a kiss firmly on his lips.

\- Sin

‘It should be a sin’, he thought, ‘to love as deeply as I love her. There is nothing I wouldn’t do, even if it went against my very self.’

\- Within

Within him was darkness. He was different from most, some would call him mad. But not her. She stayed by his side, claiming all of himself for her own. To her, within him there was only the man she had grown to love.

\- Ran

He ran after her, worried that he might not make it in time.

 

\- Baby

That night, she came home late, holding a bundle in her arms. “Please, I can’t just let her die.” He had nodded, and let his lover inside with the bundle that would soon be their daughter, Angelina.

Had he known the trouble she would cause and the white hairs he would’ve had, had his hair not already been white, he wouldn’t have done it any other way.

\- Stop

She had to stop this. Her visits to him were becoming more in number, and each time she left, a small part of her would always stay trapped in the man that lived in that dreary shop. 

\- Remember

“Remember the time we met?” He asked. “Darling, we met twice, if you recall. Which one are you talking about?” she countered with a smile. 

\- Hit

It amazed him how she managed to hit her mark with ease and accuracy. He was also amazed by how hard she could hit, considering her small size.

\- Thanks

He wasn’t good at apologizing, and she wasn’t good at showing gratitude. So when he asked for forgiveness, she has to give him her thanks.

\- Share

Undertaker had no problem sharing his things, he really didn’t mind. What he would not share under any circumstances were his Death Scythe ‘Skull’ and his lover, Grell. Dispatch and him never seemed to come to an agreement on those two.

\- Regret

There was nothing either Reaper regretted. Their actions had taken them to where they were, so there wasn’t anything to complain about.

Well, maybe Undertaker regretted cutting her face in the Campania; that had sure earned him a spot in her black list for a few years.

\- Care 

With the utmost care, he bandaged her arm and gently placed a kiss on her marred flesh.

\- Raise

“Raise your Death Scythes and your courage, Reapers. The Battle of Dragons is about to commence!” Grell announced from her spot on the battlegrounds. She dearly hoped that her Silver Reaper would come victorious. For her sake and the unborn baby’s he would soon be father to.

\- Live

It was at times that she left for Germany that Grell knew she could hardly live without her lover.

\- Church/Holy

Grell walked down the church’s aisle, every inch the red beauty she was, clad in a pristine white dress. With a grin, she thought ‘To bad my matrimony to the Undertaker isn’t what one would call “Holy”’

\- Anywhere

They would both go anywhere, as long as their love was there with them.

\- Locked away

There were days when Undertaker wanted to lock away his red love, simply because he wanted her for himself. It didn’t matter that she was already locked away in his heart.

\- Who knows

“Where is Officer Sutcliff?” William asked. “Who knows, Undertaker came by to pick her up. Anything can happen.” His subordinate Ronald shrugged, returning to his task. The Supervisor decided against going to look for her, having a vague idea of what could be going on between the two.

\- Use

He learnt that with the Red Death, he would have to use every trick he had, for no matter how she would seem to be easy, reality was far from that.

\- Cruel

“You’re so cruel, Unnie. Stop being such a tease.” She stuck her tongue at him in a childish fit. “Don’t say anything, dear. You know you like it.” With his smirk, she wisely kept her mouth shut.

\- Nickname

At first it began as a joke, yet as time moved on, it sorta stuck and he let it become his nickname from her. And only her. 

\- Return

Bored out of his mind, Undertaker impatiently awaited for Grell’s return from Germany. He just didn’t get why her father had to live so far that she had to travel and leave him alone for so long. 

\- Son

Despite Grell feeling the weakest at the moment, it turned out that her husband was the one to faint when their son came to the world.

\- Being

Being herself was something she had been afraid of doing for the longest time, until he came along and showed her that being oneself is the best thing to possibly ever be.

\- Great

He had done great things in his past, but the greatest of all, was choosing that volatile, passionate, alluring and maddening redheaded spitfire as his wife.

\- Wish

Ever since meeting her, he wished she would be able to see past his folly and mask, to meet the Reaper hidden underneath. Needless to say, his wish was granted the day she came by to give him a kiss.

\- Light

She was the red light that warmed his dull existence and brought joy to his heart.

\- The way

It was said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Weather or not it was true, Grell decided to try it out with her interest. She made him baked goods and would share her lunch whenever she went for a visit. By the end of it, she decided that the way to his heart wasn’t entirely through his stomach, though that did earn her a few points.

\- Reason

The only reason they had for loving the other, was simply that they wanted to. He adored her as much as she loved him, and they didn’t need a reason to keep it that way other than knowing that they desired that love.

\- Good 

“Aw! My Hatter’s just so good to me!” cried the Cheshire, squeezing said Hatter after he had presented her with a red collar with silver studs and a little bell.

\- Impression

Undertaker’s first impression on the red reaper were quite similar to everyone else’s. The he got to meet her and was far more impressed at what lay beneath.

\- Much

There was much to discuss and so little time, if they both wanted to make it out alive.

\- Hard

It was hard keeping up with the other’s antics, they each pulled the craziest of tricks to try the other’s patience. Somehow, though, the reward that came from said patience overshadowed the hardships.

 

\- Watch

Undertaker was a curious fellow, and when the volatile redhead came into his life, he simply had to watch her; be it from the shadows or staring directly, however he could, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

At times like these, he missed his glasses.

\- Night

The nights were their favorite parts of the day. They would have passionate nights, or simple ones, where they lay next to each other in their coffins. Nighttime was truly the time they were alive, for they were alone together with the one they loved.

\- Beach 

That morning, an unwilling mortician had been dragged all the way to the beach by his lover for the rest of the day. He stopped complaining once she stripped of the dress and revealed the swimsuit underneath. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to come to the beach after all. The shine in her eyes convinced him to play in the water with her and enjoy what they had.

At the end of the day, he only regretted getting distracted by her long hair and stunning legs enough to forget to apply sunscreen. He would get back at her, as soon as he could properly move without feeling a sting.

\- Fun

The days when she came to visit him and gave him a hand with his work were always the most fun for them both.

\- Scrapbook 

William never understood on what Grell wasted her time on at the office. Then he ‘accidentally’ found the leather-bound scrapbook she had been working on as a gift for the Undertaker. He decided that he could forgive her just this once.

\- Stubborn

Grell was stubborn, but Undertaker saw that trait quite fit his firecracker of a lover.

\- Loss

The day he lost her, was the day he died, and lived like a shell of what he was once before.

 

\- Home

There was no exact way to say when it happened, but somewhere along the lines, the Funeral Shop owned by the Undertaker became her home, rather than her own realm.

\- Listen

No matter what she had to say - be it trivial, silly, important, personal or anything else, he would always sit by her side, hand her the best beaker of tea she ever tried and listen.

\- Voice

Angels could stick it up their arses, his lover had a much better voice than any of them.

\- Concert 

When Grell arrived, waving concert tickets for their favorite band, he jumped up in excitement and was the first one out the door, dragging her all the way.

\- Dreams

She had thought love would never be more than a dream for her, until she met him. His thoughts were quite the same, until he met her.

\- Notice

Undertaker didn’t notice until the first morning that they woke up together, but Grell had adorable little freckles dusting her nose and cheeks. He wondered what other secrets she hid, and decided to find them all. 

\- Parenthood

Parenthood had always been a dream for Grell, for her spouse Undertaker… not so much. When Alan had asked them to babysit his niece and nephews, they had agreed. Upon that visit though, Undertaker knew that if Grell was ever actually ready to have a child, then so would he.

\- Abroad

When Grell agreed to living abroad in Germany for a semester, she had thought of visiting a her childhood friends Sasha and Rudger. What she didn’t know, was that the silver reaper that she went to on occasion would be terribly missing her.

Adopted

Ronald giggled at his mentor’s words. “What’s so funny, brat?” Her hands were on her hips and her gaze playfully stern. “Oh, nothing. You seem to have adopted your partner’s curses.”  
“Hogwash.” He simply kept laughing for the duration of their shift.

\- Culture Shock 

When Grell arrived to the Reaper Academy in the English Branch, she honestly had no idea of the cultural difference she would be facing. Thankfully, she had stumbled into the retired Reaper who kindly explained a few of the general social rules of the place after her blunder.

\- Survival 

Having to survive was something Reapers didn’t have to face oftenly. With Demon activity increasing, it became their top priority for all of them. All except Undertaker, who would only care for that one redhead to survive.

\- Raindrop

The rain fell on both, each raindrop chilling them to the bone. “Race you to the shop!” Undertaker called with a childish chuckle. She smirked, summoning her Death Scythe and using it to catch up with him.

\- Rising

The sun was rising and Undertaker couldn’t be bothered to stay asleep anymore. He glanced at his sleeping lover and decided that maybe, he wouldn’t sleep but watch the sun rise from where he lay, next to her.

\- Changes

There were many changes made since the silver and red Reapers had met, but neither would change a single moment that they spent together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcanon that I’ve picked up from somewhere but can’t seem to remember where at the moment. Grell is said to be German by some, but also French. I say why not both? So, I guess that explains a few things from there. I -as I always do- hope you’ve enjoyed this piece. :)


	8. I like you from your Diary, Want coffe sometime?

The silver haired mortician of the town strolled down Abney Street and into his favorite coffee shop, The Downtown Cups. He was glad that he came at a time when it wasn’t overly crowded; the place could make a pretty penny for whatever they sold, drawing in many a customer. He ordered something different today, a pumpkin spiced latte. Normally, Undertaker would just ask for a good ol’ cappuccino with the caramel drizzle - sometimes chocolate, but always very sweet. Today felt a bit different, so it simply made sense to try something different.

Having paid for the order, he sat on a table by the window, enjoying the scenery for a while. He drummed his fingers against the table, though it sounded strange. The sound was more..muffled? Dual ringed eyes glanced down and saw the disturbance. It was a red, leather-bound journal. Roses were drawn on it in black outlines, a name written at the bottom.

Grell Sutcliff.

Curiosity tickled him. One peak shouldn’t hurt. Looking around, he opened the yellow-stained pages. The first one was full of doodles in red ink. Eyes, roses and other flowers filled the page. The person’s name was written in astounding calligraphy of the old. He decided to keep looking, and turned to another page. In this one, a poem was written, once again, in red. It spoke of love, and of rejections. He smiled sadly, poor soul, looking for someone, yet is always pushed away.

Now, more intrigued than before, he kept turning the pages. Recipes, more poetry, random drawings and even short pieces of stories were written. And everything was in red ink. There were designs of dresses not even the world renowned designers could’ve dreamt of. He felt as if he was talking to this person, having known them since forever.

Then, he stumbled upon a picture. It was a group of five people. There was a small brunette next to a tall, lion-looking blond and a stoic faced raven haired man. To the blond’s other side was a young-looking man. He was also blond, and carried a red lawn-mower. Though there was a feeling in his gut that told him that the extravagant redhead posing next to the brunette with the ‘Death’ sign and tongue out was the owner of the journal. 

He brought the picture closer to his face, to better observe it, for he didn’t have his glasses with him at the moment. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the raven-haired one. It was his former apprentice, William. It seemed that all the others were Reapers too, he realized. They each held their Death Scythes and had the signature Reaper eyes. A laugh left his lips, eyes going back to the redhead. Alabaster skin was contrasted by the blood color of their hair and molten pools of jade and gold.

Undertaker flipped to another page, which seemed to be a journal entry.

“Damn that William. I hate them all. I’m a girl. Not a boy, not gender confused not any of what those idiots call me! Can’t they just call me for what I am? Is that so hard?”

His eyes widened, this was something uncommon for Reapers. They normally had bodies to match their souls, but things like this did happen every thousand years or so. Poor kid. From what he read, it seemed that this was a soul that was put down every other day -if not daily- yet fought back to remain composed, and came back with fiery vengeance. He giggled, taking a sip of his semi-forgotten coffee thingy. It wasn’t as sweet, but it was good for a change.

He kept flipping the pages, until a black-gloved hand slammed the book down onto the table and a voice seethed, just next to him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He looked up to find the exact redhead from the picture. Undertaker was fascinated. She stood with a hand on a jutted out hip, the other supporting her weight on the table as those eyes blazed with wild fury, mouth in a grimace that showed off deadly sharp teeth. Motioning for her to take a seat, the mortician smiled.

“Ah, so this is yours. I was wondering who it belonged to, so I was taking a peek for identification purposes.” He handed her the notebook. “Here, you have lovely drawings, by the way.” She blushed as she sat, light pink dusting her cheeks. “Ahem...well, thanks, but I rather no one look into this, it’s personal.” She hugged it close before dropping it carefully into her bag. The redhead went to stand, but his hand atop hers ceased the act.

“Say, is William as uptight as ever? Haven’t seen ‘im in a while.” He chuckled at hher bemused expression. “You know Will?” He nodded. “Of course, he was my apprentice.” Hehehe~ what a funny lil’ Reaper.

Her dual ringed eyes widened. “You’re a Reaper.” Once more, he nodded. “Yes I am. Undertaker,” He held out his hand, “And you, are Grell Sutcliff.” Hesitantly at first, she took it.

“Nice to meet you, Grell.” A tiny smile, exposing one of the top fangs -dainty looking little thing biting into plush pink lips- crept on her face. He stood, still holding on to her hand.

“Sorry for intruding into your personal things, how ‘bout I get ya a cup of coffee someday to make it up to you?” The same pink of her lips dusted pale cheeks, the smile widening. “I- umm...sure, thanks.” He grinned, a certain smugness on his face. “Great, tomorrow at the same time, how’s that sound? We could meet up here, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, that works.” Realizing she was still holding his hand, she pulled it back. “I gotta go, Will’s as strict as ever, and I should’ve been back a few minutes ago. Um...I’ll see you tomorrow.” He chuckled, “Oh yes, you better hurry then, we wouldn’t want ol’ Willy to assign overtime and keep you from your date.” He winked mischievously, taking her hand and placing a kiss on the knuckles. 

The redhead blushed deeply at his words, completely enthralled. “O-of course. Thank you, and until tomorrow.” She grabbed her bag, she left a few paces before turning to look at him with a flirtatious smirk. 

“Parting is such sweet sorrow. I hope time flies til we meet, Undertaker.” She winked, blowing a kiss and swaying her hips on the way out. The mortician found himself stunned, frozen in place with a silly smile and a dust of color on his face. Honestly, he wanted to be the one leaving her all giddy and flustered, but it seemed she had the same idea. 

Well, two could play the game, and if that’s what she wants, that’s what she gets. I just hope she comes prepared, I do intend to do my best next time we meet~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your free time before it’s nonexistent hehe~ I say it from experience


	9. Who are you, Stranger that I sit next to?

Grell rushed into the Great Library, getting snooty glances from the librarian for her rackus. She ignored them, searching for a free spot to sit in. Every single table was full. Desperately, she scanned the area once more, noticing a free seat by a silver-haired Reaper. It was a two-person table, and though she would much rather be alone, finals were upon her and studying was due to pass the exams. Not that the subjects were particularly taxing, but they were dreadfully dull, causing her to conveniently ‘forget’ to pay attention in class.

Clumsily, she slipped into the seat, spilling her books and a few pens onto the table. Ignoring the Reaper beside her, Grell hastily takes the History textbook and starts reading, submerging herself into the story of her kin.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

That was the first day. The next, something similar happened. She rushed in and sat by the same boy, starting on her work as he focused on his. And for the next and next days, things happened just as they had the first. They kept sitting in the same two-person table, even after the written finals were over and there weren’t as many students as there had been before. She would bring out some romance/tragedy novel, sometimes even a mystery or fantasy, while he would read the biology and anatomy texts he could get his hands on.

It was -she clearly recalled- on one of such days that she came searching for her usual spot by the silver-haired Reaper to read the latest novel of her favorite series, that she noticed, they had never introduced themselves. Everyday for the past month they’d been sitting together for countless hours without speaking at all. She hadn’t seen him in any of her classes, and wondered on who he was.

Deciding to satisfy her curiosity, she walked up to their table, placing her novel and sitting next to him as usual.  
“Hey. I’m Grell. We’ve been sitting here for the past month but I never got your name.” She flashed a close lipped smile, knowing how her teeth tended to ward off other people. The boy’s finger came up, motioning for her to stay quiet, to which her eyes widened. That’s rude! I was just trying to be nice, even! With his other hand he scanned the page until he reached the end of the sentence.

“Terribly sorry ‘bout that; can’t lose the thread.” He giggled eerily. “Grell, eh? Say, have a last name to go with it?” Feeling out of sorts from his originally off-putting response, she didn’t remind him that she was asking for his name and simply answered. “Sutcliff. Grell Sutcliff.” Out of common courtesy, she extended her hand, which was taken into the much longer one of the boy with dark colored nails.

“Adrian Crevan. Though, Grell, I haven’t seen you much other than here.” They pulled their hands back, now looking at the other directly. The redhead wondered what he was thinking, but found it impossible since his eyes were covered by a thick fringe and his mouth wore a seemingly ever-present smile. “Me neither. I go to Section B, I’m a junior.”

“That explains it. I’m in Section A, a senior.” Her face took an expression of awe. “Really? Have you already been allowed to the mortal world?” She asked excitedly. Adrian chuckled. “A few times. I’m going once more for my final exam in a few days.” She kept asking him more about what it was like, and such things. He found her entertaining, so he didn’t doubt in indulging her queries. They kept talking until one of the older Reapers told them to either take it outside, or shut up. The boy laughed it off, but she instead let a dust of pink light her cheeks at the reprimand, taking her novel and slipping into the story. 

Upon realizing that she was no longer giving him any attention, he too picked up his book and read. They shared a comfortable silence, until a note was passed in her direction while he cleared up his spot. Slender fingers unfolded the paper and read:

Hey, I liked talking to you; maybe wanna get a cup of coffee someday and keep talking without old fools interrupting?

Find me if you do, Housing 2, room 304

~Adrian Crevan

She bit her lip, sharp fangs glinting in the Library’s light. The prospect of meeting him again brought butterflies to her stomach, tingling all over. But what was that? He wanted her to go to him? Preposterous! How indecent would it be for a lady such as herself to ask a man like him out? No, no, no, that won’t do. If he wanted to see her again, then he’d have to find her. Smirking, she wrote a note of her own and placed it into her pocket. Her things were hastily cleared before she headed to the boy’s dorm.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

It was easy to find, and soon, she had passed the little note from under the door and rapped on the wood as to announce its arrival. The redhead left without bothering to see if he had received it. I’ll know soon enough.

Meanwhile, Adrian was jotting down some notes on the chapter he had read when there was a knock at his door. Curiosity got the better of him, so he got up to open it. There was no one in sight, so he went back inside, his foot feeling something strange under it. He bent down to pick the object, and saw it was a note addressed to him.

Dearest Adrian,

While I do find your invite quite fun, you’d do better if you found me. Until then, parting is such sweet sorrow.

~Grell Sutcliff

A wide smile crept onto his face. So what if he had to do a little chasing? It would prove to be a fun game indeed if that extravagant redhead was to get involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't notice, yeah, this is sort of AU, cause Grell and Undertaker never studied at the same time. Fanfiction’s awesome like that.
> 
> PS: I was being serious about enjoying the free time.


	10. So we meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Modern Day! AU.

I woke up, head pounding and throat sore. Coffee. I need coffee. How much did I drink again? Why’s there too much light? I painted over my window ages ago. Raising my gaze -my head couldn’t even think on getting up- I looked around, squinting. Everything was blurry, but I am sure as hell this isn’t my room. Blindly, I reached for my Dispatch issued lenses. I felt the thin, cool metal and slipped them onto my face. The world turned clear, and it somewhat helped my throbbing mind. Reluctantly, because really, I didn’t want to get up, but had to, I tried to stand, falling off the the side of the couch. I landed unceremoniously, groaning at the way my head did funny (or so it thought) little spins. 

I grumbled, but stopped my inner complaints as the smell of bacon wafted up my nose. It was accompanied by the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Licking dried lips, I got off the ground and stumbled over to William’s kitchen. I could recognize it was his place for the lack of personality. It was bland, and held no real personalizations. It didn’t mean it wasn't nice, but it just seemed like a place sucked out of a magazine. I grabbed the edges of the kitchen doorway, bangs falling into my eyes. The glasses almost slipped from my face, almost. I pushed back my fringe, only to see something I would never have imagined.

There by the stove stood the infamous ‘Red Death’ in nothing but an overly large white button-up shirt that stopped short of her ass -ahem, backside- and red boyshorts clinging to round buttocks. Her legs were pale and long, definitely stunning. Her crimson hair shone in the morning sunlight, as bright and fiery as that night in the Campania. Her hips moved with grace as she went to the far end of the room, swaying enticingly. 

I went further into the kitchen, silently watching her. She didn’t notice me as she headed over to the cupboards, standing in her toes to reach for something. Her shirt rode up, revealing the creamy flesh of her back. It’d been so long since we’d last met. She struggled to grab the pepper, and I grinned. Silently creeping over, my hands reached out, grabbing the intended item, just as her fingers curled around it. 

Her surprised scream resonated through the room, accompanied by my booming laughter. She whipped around, red hair flying with her, chest heaving with unnecessary breaths. Her eyes were burning and wild. Her hands clutched the counter behind for stability, I assume. Hehehe~ it’s so fun to give people a shock! Specially the ones like her. They are always so open about their emotions and give quite the show.

Dual ringed orbs focused in on me. I grinned. 

“Long time no see, right?” I snickered at her gasp, she was just recognizing me. Hehehe, what fun. 

“U-Undertaker!? What-”

Placing a finger on her mouth to silence her, I kept grinning. “No need to wake Chilly Willy, dearie. He was so nice letting me crash in here for a bit.” She seemed to struggle with the idea of me being here for a minute. Angrily - oh how those eyes burnt!- she pushed me back, seething. 

“What the hell are you doing here!? I thought you were dead or something!” I let a maniac laugh. “Oh, but you have thought of me. How sweet of you.” I stared at her chest, displayed by the open shirt. She seemed to notice, and hastily covered herself up. Such a shame, it was nice to look at. “And as I said, Chilly Willy let me crash here for the night. Couldn’t even see straight after drinking with that scotsman. Boy knows how ta hold his liquor, I’ll give him that.” Hehehe~ what a fun night it had been; a good way to forget the day’s events, if only for a while.

The red lady huffed, pushing her way past me and back to the stove. I went to help myself to some of the freshly brewed coffee that I so craved. “What are you doing here? I thought William was still single - or married to paperwork.” She glanced from over her shoulder. “I live here. And I’m not dating Will. We’re just good friends.” That was somewhat shocking. They lived together but weren’t dating. I know things like that are completely normal, but this is Grell and William. The two Reapers with a relationship so volatile, one didn’t know what to make out of it. Though at hearing they were not together, something in me felt...relieved? Strange. Why would I care for that little tidbit?

I still couldn’t help but tease. “What, couldn’t beat paperwork in his list of priorities?” Sniggering, I awaited any form of outraged behaviour. It never came. “I never was in love with him. I only teased for the fun of it.” She smirked at me, obviously catching on to what I was doing. I sighed. “Fine.” Too bad, I really had thought I could provoke some reaction with that.

She went back to frying the bacon, completely ignoring me. Or so it seemed. “What have you been upto then, if you’re not dead?” I glanced from over the coffee mug I’d poured myself and shrugged - though she couldn’t see the action. “I joined a new branch of our ‘beloved’ Dispatch. I take care of the Demons.” 

“So you’re a Demon Slayer?” Yet again I did an action which she did not see; nod. “Exactly. It’s better than what I honestly thought it would be.” Except for yesterday, last night had been cruel. I took another drink from the hot beverage. “How have you been, Grell? Haven’t seen you since the ship.”

I should not have said that. I really should not have said that. Too bad my mouth was quicker than my mind this time. She turned off the stove, turning to face me. “I’ve been doing good,” she said with venom that I’d never heard in her before, but I was not afraid. “No thanks to you cutting my face on the ship. You better thank whatever deity it is you believe in that I haven’t ripped you apart.”

“And why haven’t you? Like me too much for that?” I taunted, setting down the cup. She was right in my face in an instant. “You’d wish! I simply can’t afford to get into more trouble with the Dispatch at the moment. Tearing apart a ‘legend’ surely isn’t worth the punishment.” I laughed. Too precious, this is just too precious! I haven’t had a good laugh like this in a while. 

“Of course, m’dear.” I smirked. “But you see, I don’t believe you. You never cared for the rules at the Dispatch.” I wagged a finger in her direction, then in mine as I spoke. 

“You~ liiiiike meeee~ Ihihihihihi.” She turned beet red at my statement! “No I don’t, you fool!” I kept taunting and watching as she turned red. How adorable~! Hehehehe~ She kept denying it, but I saw the truth behind her eyes. She had thought of me as much as I had of her over these long years.

I took her wrists and pinned her to a wall, keeping her in place with my body. Grell went suddenly quiet, staring intently at me; and how I devoured the attention she gave. “You can’t fool me, pretty Reaper.”

My lips were on hers and at the contact, my body seemed to wake. Blood rushed through my veins as my usually still heart began to beat quickly. It took her but a moment to give in, and soon she was reciprocating the action with fervor. She purred, the vibration sending waves of pleasure down my spine. How long had it been, since I’d have this sort of contact with anyone? How had I lived without her doing this to me? I left her wrist, my hands getting distracted by her hair, her face, neck, anything they could reach that was hers! I slipped a leg in between hers, reveling in the gasps she emitted. How wonderfully she sang for me, clinging tighter to me, unraveling before my very eyes. I was driving her crazy, and I loved every second of it.

Kissing her was dangerous, and I had already nicked my tongue on her teeth at least twice. Still, I was enjoying the redhead too much to care. Her hands were in my hair, pulling me closer, and I felt my desire growing. I was lifting her shirt, delighted by the smooth taut skin that it hid.

“I would appreciate it if you’d take that to a room. I’m not interested in knowing what happens next.”

I growled, cursing under my breath at William’s excellent timing. I turned to face him. “Well that wasn’t exactly nice.” I said, still keeping Grell in my arms. “I do not care for that. Take it to a room if you must, it’s my house.” I growled again at the ghosting smirk on his face. It was then that Grell escaped my confines.

“S-sutcliff! Put some pants on!” I had to laugh at William’s blushing face, yet couldn’t help but inwardly agree. The only one that should be seeing her this way is me. “Oh relax, Will. I sleep like this all the time.” She waved him off, taking a plate and serving breakfast as if nothing had happened. “Here, I made your favorite. I’m going to shower and go find Sascha and Rudgar to show them around the place."

She places his dish in the set table and went to the door. "Mind if I join?" William gasped and she blushed. I only laughed, but stopped at her smirk. "You think it's going to be that easy to get into my pants? You are mad indeed." She left the room, swaying her hips enticingly as she did.

"Well it seemed you were enjoying it back there!" I called, to which the stoic Reaper having breakfast only grinned. "And here I thought it would be the other way around."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, really. But are you going to go after her or not? Rudgar is catching her eye these days." I promptly told him to shut his mouth as I left to get ready for the day. Pfft Rudger, I bet he has nothing on me. Still, I had to make sure she knew she was mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Undertaker is a bit possessive about his lovers and doesn't like sharing. Anyone else think Undertaker and Eric would be awesome drinking partners? Poor Alan, he’d have to remain sober to keep those two out of trouble. Even if Ronnie were there, he wouldn’t be of much help other than getting them drunker. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and had a good read!


	11. Prom Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very AU. I guess this fits into Modern Day.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. The teen picked up his books, cramming them in his pack and rushing to his locker. He slid down the halls, almost crashing into Eric Slingsby. “Slow down! Watch where yer goin’!”

“Sorry, ‘m in a hurry!” He yelled over his shoulder, grinning like a madman.

He rushed to the lockers, grabbing a hold of his once in range to stop himself from barreling over someone else. Hastily, pale hands punched in the simple code and threw the door open. Only when it was already open and his books were being thrown in and taken out, did he notice a head of flaming red hair on the locker next to his. “Whoa, in a hurry much? Where’s the fire?” Came the teasing tone of her. Grell Sutcliff - resident artist of Reaper Academy with a secret talent for Scythe Modifications and a not-so-secret flirt. Despite what people outwardly said, it was well known (to him) that at least half their grade, and the juniors below them, had a certain level of fancy for her. They would make crude comments about her hair, her teeth and her gender, but Adrian knew what they all hid - he could see it in their eyes. They desired her; just as much as he did.

And that pissed him off to no end. She was indeed a rare and beautiful specimen, but that is all that their classmates ever saw - apart from the rather flamboyant displays and volatile temper. She had much more than that, yet nobody saw it. One would think that such thing like that would work in his favor; he saw her like no one else did - but that wasn’t true. She never spared him a glance in that sense he so wished she would. So what if he didn’t openly display what he felt? Wasn’t he even worthy of her consideration? William was… polite, he was more than that with her, and yet she considered him and not he. 

He plastered on his typical smile, a manic laugh bubbling in his throat.

“Hehehehe~ I’ve got somethings to take care of. Anyway, a little pigeon told me you weren’t going to Prom?” There, the first step was done. All that was left for him to do was wait until she said she was going and he’d ask her. Simple.

She bit her lip and passed a hand through her short, spiked up hair. It was weird, to see that twinge of insecurity in her toxic eyes. Usually, she reserved that for when no others were around. Curiously, he scanned the room around them and for once, noticed the silence. Oh, they were alone. Of course.

“Maybe - I’m not sure yet.” She turned away and forcefully shoved her Anatomy book into the locker. “Why’s that? And what’s got you so sour?” He closed his own and devoted his attention to her, leaning against the wall.

She sighed. “Because.”

“Because?”

“Yes, because.”

“Because… why exactly?”

“Because! You know why!” she hissed, “It would suck to go alone and in some stupid suit!” Her orbs glowed, and for a minute, he only stared. “I don’t want to go with some girl - I want a guy to ask me out like they do to them. And I want to wear whatever the hell I want without anyone saying shit about it. But if more stupid comments is what I’m getting, then guess what, I’m simply not going. Prom’s not that important anyway - and it’s not like anyone would ask a ‘freak’ like me.” She slammed it closed stomping away.

She was crying, he knew; he always knew when she was upset. And he regretted not asking her then and there. Hurriedly, he went to his home. His father greeted him as per usual, and so did his grandfather. Prom was that night, and whatever he was doing he was telling her what he felt. He would convince her to go with him, and so, he set his plan in motion.

The phone - magic things that they were- rang a few times before another voice came from the other end. “Hello, this is Mary Anne.” 

“Heeelloo~ Mary, m’dear. Remember that favor you owe me?” There was a sigh on her behalf. “Adrian, yes, I do. What do you want? Please, anything but making me get your experiment bugs and stuff, that’s disgusting!” He chuckled, falling on his bed. “No, nothing of the sort. It’s a bit more… complicated, you know how stubborn she is.” A groan. “Would you stop with the cryptic responses and get to the point already?” This time he was the one to sigh, “Oh alright, you’re no fun.” The silverette flipped onto his back. “Here’s what I need you to do.”

When the call ended, he went to his closet and brought out the suit his grandfather had given him for some occasion - someone’s wedding, was it? Well, whatever it had been for, it was now for prom. Setting it down on his bed, he darted into the shower to get ready - trusting that Mary Anne could do what he had asked. By Death he hoped she did.

⌐ ⌐

7:35

He pulled down his sleeve over the watch. Everything was set. He was standing in her backyard, facing her bedroom’s window on the second floor. He checked over his work, pleased with the results. Though all that couldn’t stop his erratic heart. Why was he so nervous? He’d already asked girls out before.

‘She isn’t like them.’ Yes, that was it. She wasn’t like the others. She made him feel. A slender hand picked a pebble from the ground and threw it towards the window, hitting the window frame. It bounced back, but he wasn’t deterred. Picking another one, he tried again- and bent down to find another one.

There was no clicking sound, so he looked up to see what had gone wrong. He froze. Grell was on the window, short hair styled in curls and a little black bow. Her pale skin glowed, lips ruby red and vibrant emerald-gold orbs highlighted by the black cat-like eyeliner. He saw the red lace sleeves of intricate patterns and the deeper velvet bodice covering her chest. His breath caught in his throat and the pebble she was tossing around fell from her grasp at the sight.

On the ground, there was a set of red candles, all lit up, shaping the word ‘Prom?’ and Adrian in the midst of it all. He looked uncommonly dapper, dressed in an ebony siut and hair pulled back with a ribbon to match. She couldn’t help staring - was this even real? Was he seriously asking her - her of all the ones he could’ve chosen!- to something like Prom? She was speechless.

“So, how does it sound, Red? You’ve already got the dress, don’t make me go alone.” He smiled, that insanely charming smile he never showed anyone, spreading his arms and shrugging innocently. Grell couldn’t believe this. She caught her lip between her teeth, and then giggled giddily. Adrian, underneath all the smiles, was nervous; he held his breath.

“Yes! I - I’ll go with you.” She beamed, completely elated. Releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, he smiled. 

“Grell!” A voice came from within the house, catching both teens’ attention. “If your boyfriend vants to take you to zat Prom zing ‘en he better comen in ant talk viz me!” The voice was masculine, and laced with a thick accent. Red became prominent in her cheeks, but her date only laughed it off. “Da~ad! He’s not my boyfriend!” She called back, then directing her attention to the silverette. “Come on, you heard him.” He pulled himself together as she retreated to her room and closed the window. Grinning, he threw a last pebble for luck and went around.

Not yet, sir.

⌐ ⌐

The night had passed, and no one could take their eyes off the redhead. They dared not say a thing, as she was with Adrian - who only smirked in smug victory. They had danced, talked and enjoyed the night away. Now, they were walking back to Grell’s house at 1:49 in the morning. Staying later than two was unacceptable and brought bad luck - or so Grell’s father had said.

They reached the door; it was time to say goodbye and Adrian still had his feelings to confess. “Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight.” She stood on her toes, pulling down on the lapels of his suit to press a kiss on his cheek, barely missing his mouth. She grinned sheepishly, backing to the door. “Goodnight, Adrian.”

“Wait. Um… I-” She turned to face him, her innocent expression catching him off guard. “You look amazing.” A pink blush spread on her cheeks, toxic eyes gazing down. This was the one guy she couldn’t flirt with - not like the others. He made her jittery, a light feeling in her head and made butterflies swarm in her heart. “O-oh, thanks… you look good too.” She tried to get a glimpse of his eyes, but was -as always- met with his fringe. He smiled softly.

“I like you. I really, really do.” He took her hands gently, amazed by how well they fit together; and how easily the words left his mouth. “You’re the most real, passionate and exciting person I’ve ever met. I- I’ve liked you for so long already - you’ve got me crazy.” He pulled her forward, lips meeting in a brief kiss. “I want you to be mine. I love you.”

Grell said nothing, biting her lip. This was too good to be true. This was just too good to be real. Her hands found their way to his face, parting his bangs to reveal the jewels that lay hidden. His eyes never lied; and now they showed exactly what she had dreamed of someone feeling for her one day. Acting on impulse, she crashed her lips into his, delighted by his startled gasp. Just as fast as she had kissed him, she left, a tattletale drip of drool on his mouth.

“Take me out, darling. I don’t give my heart so freely.” She pecked him once more, entering her home with a cheshire grin. Adrian stood outside, the silly smile on his face turning into a smug smirk. He was about to leave when the door opened, revealing an amber haired woman.

“Adrian, right? Come in for tea.” He didn’t argue. “Goodnight, m’am. Afraid to say I haven’t had the pleasure.” He stepped inside and was lead to the parlour, where there was a set of three porcelain cups and a kettle of sweet smelling tea. “Emily Sutcliff, Grell’s mother. Sit down, please.” He did as told, crossing his legs and taking the offered cup. In front of him, came to sit the burly man with flaming hair, Jaeger Sutcliff; otherwise known as Grell’s father - or his worst nightmare. The titles were related.

“Crevan,” He smirked, “I told you, only bad zings happen after two in zee morning.”

He gulped.

Yeah, his worst nightmare indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Fall Out Boy’s ‘Dance Dance’ video (the beginning) and the 2AM part is from the life lessons of How I met your Mother.


	12. Friends save you from Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's pretty clear that I really like AUs... Still, enjoy! :)

He heard the thrashing, but it wasn’t enough to wake him. No, it had to be the screams coming from the other side of the room. The screams that only got louder and more desperate, crying for help and cursing their antagonist to hell. He shot up in his bed, sleep erased from his mind, and uncommonly replaced by fear. Looking wildly around the dark room, his eyes landed on his roommate. 

Grell was having a nightmare.

And not one about the monsters they were told about as children, apparently. The red blanket was partly on the bed, partly on the floor and somehow still managing to cover her feet. He could see a sea of crimson all over the pillows, her short hair tangled this way and that, in constant movement from all the tossing and turning. Moonlight glimmered in her skin due to the sheer layer of sweat covering it. He heard panting, he heard the uncontrollable fear - and he had to do something about it. She shouldn’t suffer like this alone.

Rising from his own bed, he padded softly over to Grell’s, picking the mostly discarded blanket on the way. Unsure of what to do next, he carefully shoved the redhead’s body to the other side, slithered into the bed and wrapped them both with the sheets. Grell began to struggled harder, hitting Undertaker’s guts every now and then with considerable force behind the unconscious blows. He only wrapped his arms tighter around her in retaliation, forcing their bodies closer, until his mouth was but a breath away from Grell’s ear.

“You’re alright. It’s just a nightmare. Just a bad dream. I’m here, you’re fine.” The silverette whispered soothingly, the awkward scratchy tone vanished from his voice. His hands found their way to a surprisingly slender back, stroking it softly. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you.” The cries slowly dropped to whimpers, the tears he hadn’t seen began to dry. With quiet words and gentle strokes down her spine, the reaper next to him went still, and exhaled a last breath, falling back into a peaceful slumber. Undertaker smiled slightly, proud of his work, and enjoying the warmth that he held. He soon, fell back asleep, holding the smaller to his chest, a contented smile in place. This was better than dreaming of proximity with her.

 

Sunlight poured in from the cracks in the curtains, drenching them in its gentle glow. Undertaker opened his eyes, slightly confused, for his side of the room hardly ever received this much light. The previous night came rushing to the forefront of his mind, and he sighed in relief. His hands instantly went to his partner, once again stroking her crimson hair, enjoying the silky texture of it. 

Grell was usually the one who woke up first - and went to sleep later. By the time Undertaker woke up, Grell would already be dressed and ready to start the day. Today though, Undertaker was up first, and he had a slumbering reaper in his arms. It was a change he hadn’t expected, and much less had thought of ever being capable of savouring. The Junior fit delightfully, and was completely alluring. Rumors had come and gone about him, about how the others thought of him as a charmer - though no one would ever admit it to anyone out loud. Undertaker wouldn’t argue, he too believed in those rumors, and here they lay, proven to be true. Her fair skin, flaming red hair, eccentric reaper eyes unlike all others, the cute little freckles and darling red lashes.

Freckles? Red lashes? His mind did a somersault. Since when did Grell have red lashes and those tiny freckles? They’d been living in the same room for two semesters already, how hadn’t he noticed that?

The squirming under him got him out of his trance. Grell arched her back and stretched, not unlike he had seen many cats do. She yawned, exposing rows of shark teeth. Green-gold eyes opened, slowly coming to focus. Undertaker stilled, watching her. Grell registered an additional warmth, something stronger than pillows beside and around her. Turning around, she came to face a mop of silver hair and a toothy grin.

Her eyes went wide as she stifled a scream. She untangled herself from their knot of limbs and pushed him off the bed, panting from fright. Undertaker merely chuckled, amused by the display. 

“Good morning, Grell.” He stood, dusting off his pants. Grell’s cheeks became as red as her hair. Undertaker giggled.

“U-undertaker? Why… why were you in my bed… shirtless?”

He laughed some more, then sobered up for a second. “You were having a nightmare. I couldn’t just wake you up like that.”

“And that explains what you were doing in my bed?” She deadpanned. “I went to comfort you. It stopped the nightmare, didn’t it?” Her blush deepened. “Er...well, yeah.” Her head bowed sheepishly, hands toying with her hair. “Um… thank you. That was thoughtful of you.” A wry smile etched into her face. Undertaker returned the gesture.

“What was it about? It sounded awful. You were thrashing and screaming, you’ve never done that before.” Grell froze in place.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me. I just thought it would help a bit.” The Senior reaper sat back on his bed, observing her through his bangs as she clutched at the blankets.

“I… Can I really trust you not to tell?” She asked skeptically. His fringe was lifted and there were no need for words. She understood.

“I was dreaming about my life, before my parents transferred.” 

“You’re a born Reaper?”

“Yes. Now are you going to listen or not?” She huffed at the interruption. He raised his hands in surrender.

“I lived in Germany. Mama was retransferred to France, so I would go between homes. Once, we were… Vader and I were going to visit Mama. A Demon ambushed us. I remember black everything, sharp heeled boots, a black cloud of smoke, dark claws, everything black… except the red eyes. It wasn’t alone. There were many. Too many. There was a plethora of them, and we were only two. I was thirteen, I think, when that happened. Vader died and I…” Grell trailed off, tears forming fresh in her eyes. Undertaker was by him in an instant.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You’re safe now, and one day, you’ll be strong enough to slay them. It’ll be fine.” He embraced her tightly. Losing someone was a foreign feeling for him, but he detected the hollowness she felt. “But it’s my fault! Vader said to wait another day, but I wanted to go see Mama! I begged and begged until he let us go! It’s my fault. Was that punishment from the Divine then?” She cried, sobbing as the tears fell without restriction. 

“No. Listen to me, that wasn’t your fault.” She looked at him upon hearing the uncommonly stern tone. “You are not at fault. The Demon’s attack could’ve happened any other day.” His thumbs brushed away the saltine drops. “The Divine have a will beyond our comprehension, but they do not punish for wanting to be with your loved ones.” Red-nailed fingers grasped at the silver hair as both fell back on the bed.

“What did they do to you?” He asked. She shook her head. He persisted. “You’ve already told me this much, and I will not betray your confidence. Grell, I’ve come to consider you as a friend, let me help you.” More than a friend, his mind wanted to say, but didn’t. She hiccuped, her sobs stifling into sniffles. “I can’t tell you.”

“Yes you can. Trust me.”

“No, I can’t. Trust me.”

“And why not?” Undertaker took her chin between his fingers, forcing her gaze on him. 

“Because I’m already alone, and I can’t lose the only friend I’ve got.” She yanked her head away. “Now leave me be, please.” She sat, bringing her knees to her chest, and ducking her head in them.

“If I stopped being your friend for something beyond your control, then I never really was a friend at all. I won’t leave you over something like this. Friends trust each other, so please, trust me.” She peeked at him from those red lashes he hadn’t know were red until this morning. 

“Do you promise not to laugh?” He nodded solemnly. “I swear I won’t.”

“I was born as a girl. The Demon’s just messed up my body when they took Vader away.” Well, that was completely unexpected. He looked her over. Androgynous features, a slightly more curved body, the red nails, covering up the freckles and lashes with makeup, the way she acted. Yes, Grell was unlike the other Reapers, and now he knew why.

“Why would I laugh about that?” Frowning, she asked. “Don’t you laugh at everything?”

“Hehehe, at everything amusing. Your misfortunes are not.” He pat her head, somewhat lovingly. “We don’t have class today, but would you want to go to the Library with me? I have access to a few tomes about Demon nature and the like. Maybe we can find whatever spell they cast on you and reverse it. What do you say? And you can’t say you’re going to study because we just came out of finals.” He pointed a finger accusingly, then added, “Not that either of us really study for them anyway.” She laughed. “Alright, okay. Sounds good to me.” She got up and stretched.

“I’ll get ready, then we can go.” 

“I can help you with a shower if you want, to make sure they completed the transformation and such. I’ll provide a thorough examination.” He called out deviously. 

“W-what!? Are you insane? Crevan I swear-” She fumed, heat burning throughout her body at the lewd suggestion. Damn that boy!

“Hehehehehe, you should’ve seen your face! Priceless!” He fell back in his fit of laughter, tears streaming down his face, breath hardly working. “I was just kidding, Grell. Don’t take it too seriously.” Though, it might not be a bad idea, a small voice whispered in his head. She glared at him, and the idea was stomped. “I was just trying to be funny. You looked like you needed a laugh.” Her green-gold eyes rolled. “That wasn’t funny - at all.” He nodded. “Duly noted. I’ll endeavour from those kinds of jokes from now on.” Grell was relieved. She picked a towel and headed for the showers, stopping to look back at him from the door.

“Thanks for being there for me. For being my friend.” Grell smiled gratefully, genuinely. It was the best thing someone had ever done for her, since that awful incident. Undertaker nodded, “It was a pleasure.” When she was gone, he let out a sigh. She only wanted a friend. That was all she was looking for in him. It was not exactly what he wanted.

But at least it was a start.


	13. Nature of Reapers pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It does contain a minor character death, and slight suggestive themes, but nothing too graphic. That said, I hope you enjoy it.

“Love, I’m going out for an emergency call back in the Library. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Good luck, darling! We’ll be waiting.”

That had been before the raid began. She had kissed her husband goodbye and he’d left like any other day. Their little two-year-old was at the table with a friend of his, eating their lunches beside the redheaded mother when he had left. No one had suspected. No one had seen it coming, but the Raiders were soon upon them.

The clashing of Death Scythes resonated over the town, drowning the battle cries of the Reapers defending their homes. They were larger in number, but the Raiders had one advantage; they had the Originals. Those were the most powerful Reapers, and they did not have any pity. They attacked relentlessly; by the end of the hour, they had taken the southern quarter of the Great Library, and were moving into the Central Offices. Any Reaper strongly against the Originals perished, and David Knox, Supervisor of the United Kingdom Dispatch was no exception.

“Ronald, Alan! Get to the basement, hide there and no matter what, do not come out!” The redhead pushed the two tots past the door, locking it from the outside for good measure. Confused, wanting nothing more than their mother’s comfort, they cried. “Come Ronnie, Miss Grell said to hide. Hurry!” The four year old brunette pulled on the younger toddler’s hand. They went down the stairs, tears spilling from their eyes as they searched for a good place to hide.

On the floor above, Grell had just finished hiding herself in a linen closet, keeping the door open just a smidge, so she’d be able to hear the noise outside. It wasn’t long before heavy footsteps were heard entering through the main door. They echoed down the hall, and she stopped breathing. Closer and closer they came, joined by others. Her heart could not move, frozen in fear, yet it was like a tightly wound spring. Ready to attack at a moment’s notice. A shadow passed by the door of where she hid, soon followed by a towering figure draped in black. He had silver-spun hair falling to his waist, and from his Death Scythe she knew, he was an Original.

He was flanked by other four Reapers, all of those wearing masks and goggles instead of glasses to correct their vision. Those were also covered in black, but she saw that they were of more modern generations. They certainly looked younger, their auras were also that much easier to read; and had no barriers over them as the silverette did. The elder reaper made his way up the stairs with a pair of his men flanking him. When she knew that they were out of earshot, she silently slipped from her spot, slinking into the room beside the kitchen where the other two were in. She crept slowly, listening to them. The duo appeared to be registering her -her- kitchen. It simply wouldn’t do. With the grace of a feline, she pounced on the one nearest to her, covering his mouth and jabbing his neck sharply with the demoted Death Scythe. She grinned like the Cheshire, no one would as much as touch the kids if she had a say. 

The Reaper bled, trying to call out for his partner, but failing miserably; the wound in his neck too fatal. He was dead within the minute, engulfed in a pool of blood. The redhead let him down, making not a sound. The other had not yet noticed, and she took full advantage of that, surprising him with a stab to the back, straight in his lungs. The man let a piercing scream, calling out for his partners on the top floor. It mattered not in the end, she stabbed him once more in his head, ending his life.

“Well, what have we here? I see someone was busy.”

She let the man she was holding tumble to the floor with a steady thump. Turning around, she faced the Raider. Looming over her, he seemed about to swallow her lithe frame. He wore a black trench, with skin-tight pants and contrasting white collared shirt. He had thigh high boots that seemed heavy, and thick silver bangs covered his eyes. Though that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel the wrath, the power emanating from his stare.

Grell drew her Scythe, this time making sure it was the red-engined chainsaw; making it roar as it was turned on. “Yes, but apparently I’m not done yet.” It was so sudden, that the unfortunate blond Reaper was tackled to the ground with the mechanical device cutting into his torso. The others stepped out of the way as she butchered the downed Reaper, enjoying the sight of all the blood spilling forth.

“Search the lower floors, I sense another set of souls. Bring them alive.”

No! Not there, please!

It was too late. The elder had sensed them; he was smirking. “Keeping secrets, are we?” She abandoned the corpse, taking on the ancient, her vision blurred red.  
That was her first mistake. The Reaper that had followed the elder shot to the basement, barreling past the locked door. She tried to follow, but the one she had picked a fight with threw her over to the table, preventing her escape.

Downstairs, the two little toddlers hid, trembling in fear. One was in a hamper, covered by a pile of clothes the second one had thrown over him, while the brunette had slipped into a chest, near enough to the smallest of the duo. It was then that the Reaper came in hand, a sword Death Scythe at the ready. His eyes were piercing, and if not for his desire to live, little Ronald would’ve screamed.

But the Reaper found him. He took the hamper and held it upside down. He fell out of the basket, landing on his rump before being lifted by his assailant. The boy was thrown over the man’s shoulders as he searched the place for the other soul his boss had mentioned. It wasn’t long when a soft cry was heard from the chest at the foot of the bed. Smirking, the Reaper sheathed his Death Scythe, easily picking the wee boy by the scruff of his shirt and dragging him up the stairs to his higher up.

The scene above, no matter how much he called himself fearless, was one of utter horror. His partners lay cold and dead, covered in their own gore. Their eyes were open, begging pleas for mercy still etched on them. The silver Reaper and the redhead were jabbing and thrusting their Death Scythes in the other’s direction, blocking and countering every move. They were so engrossed in their own fight, that they didn’t notice him standing there with the children.

Or so it seemed. Both had noticed him enter the room, both knew he was there, but neither was willing to separate their concentration from the opponent. Not until the elder made an obvious glance to the subordinate.

“Kill them.”

At that, the world seemed to stop for the redhead, she saw everything move too slowly, adrenaline pumping through her system. She viciously slashed her weapon in his face, splitting skin from the bottom right of his throat and across his face, ending above his left eye. He stumbled back in shock, cupping the wound, yet never dropping his Scythe.  
She couldn’t care less at the moment, and rushed to the children. The other held them up in defense - she wouldn’t attack them. He was dumbfounded when she raised her weapon, the serrating teeth glinting in the setting sun and lowered it on his form. Caught off guard, he let the children fall to retrieve his sword, but it was a second too late. She had impaled the chainsaw into his chest, digging deeper and deeper, her thirst for blood unsatisfied by the rushing liquid that sputtered from his body. Her eyes burned, wild and crazed, dripping with acidic poison in her vibrant irises.

Her rage was redirected at the Reaper who had caused all this mess. Taking calculated steps, she ordered the younglings to seek refuge in another part of the house, while she dealt with the monster who had dared do this. They ran to the bathroom, locking themselves in.

Meanwhile, she went back to attacking the blinded Reaper. Somehow, he managed to barely escape her advances, countering every single one with a block. That was until she evaded one of his counter-attacks and sent him flying to the wall.

THUD!

The hit to her head resonated in her skull, making her sight splotch and go blurry. There was a jab to her neck and various more to her back, numbing her spine. She lost her balance, falling to the floor. The chainsaw was torn from her limped grasp, but not by the split-faced ancient. This was another Original come to his partner’s rescue. She was hit once more, this time on her back, with a cane. She rolled from the impact, crashing with the counter. The cane was stabbed onto her stomach, knocking all the wind out. It was about to come down again, when the other spoke.

“Don’t kill her yet. She’s needed alive.”

And then the world went black. Darkness enveloped her in its sweet embrace, taking her down, down, down. She spiraled in it, completely lost, until she heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing at all.

“Grab the children, knock ‘em out.” The silver-haired stood from his spot with the help of his saviour, a brown haired, mustached Reaper. 

“Do we kill them?”

“Not now. They’re our leverage.”

“I’ll take care of this. Kingsley, take Crevan to the medic’s, get him patched up for our next move. You there, gather the boys and the redhead, keep them alive until you are ordered otherwise.” 

“Yes, sir!” They saluted, and there was sudden movement, everyone racing to complete their task. The brunette with white strands rubbed the bridge of his nose, walking next to Kingsley as he helped the Original to the medical ward.

“Honestly, Adrian. Why didn’t you wait for someone - if not me?”

“You were taking too long, chap. They knew we were here.”

“Still, look at what happened. Our plans were almost ruined!”

The other gave a weak laugh, despite his wound. “Almost is not losing. Remember I’ve been through worse, Anderson.” The other sighed. It was so like his friend to dismiss such matters with laughter. “I’ll make sure everything’s in order. You better be fine when I get back.”

“Hehehehe~ Are you that worried about me, old friend? These were caused by a Death Scythe, it’ll take some time, but I’ll be alright.” With a sigh, the mustached Reaper left them at the door, returning to the household to go over what must be done.

Grell stirred in her sleep, pain flooding her nerves. Whimpering in her sleep, she tossed herself to her husband’s side. He would always embrace her, calming whatever may ail her. He would whisper sweet nothings until she stopped breathing and went back to a peaceful rest. She curled to his side, and as expected he would lazily stretch his arm to encase her waist protectively. Snuggling deeper, his musky scent enveloped her. He never smelt like that.

Her eyes shot open.

She pushed back, the pain from before intensifying. Wide eyes stared at the Reaper laying beside her. He had been jostled awake from her rash movements, and now were observing her behind the curtain of bangs. She reached blindly for her glasses in a panic. Who was he? Why was he here? Where was David?

A dark chuckle came from the mysterious figure’s lips, those curling into a grin. “Looking for these?” Slender hands held red-framed spectacles delicately by the chain. Without thinking, she jumped at him, but her right hand was jerked back by a thick chain, cuffing her to the pole connecting the two bedposts, in turn stopping her body, twisting it agonizingly. The mad laughter was back. He was making fun of her, how humiliating to be tied to one’s own bed, with no way to release oneself and at the complete mercy of another being.

She recognized the silver hair and the maniac voice. It was the Original who had ordered to kill her children. She growled, baring sharp, shark-like teeth at the intruder. He only flashed her a cocky smile, laying back on the bed and placing the frames on the nightstand. “No need for those now, go back to sleep, dear.” He closed his eyes, settling back into a comfortable position.

She stood there for a while, wholly gobsmacked and infuriatingly confused. She would’ve thrown a fit it it were any other Reaper, but she knew she was nothing against an Original like him. Gritting her teeth, she decided to find out what was going on. She had to find her son and Alan. 

A dark thought ran through her mind. No, they can’t be dead! Please no! Desperately, she pulled on the chain, but they were made of iron, and did not yield. She searched frantically for the keys, her eyes catching a glint of something shiny next to where he’d placed her spectacles. ‘Damn it!’

Sighing, she pushed herself to where he lay. He was on the very edge of the bed, so there was no way she could go over him without falling. She cursed under her breath. ‘This is humiliating’. She swung her leg over his torso, placing it in the minimal space he had left of the mattress. Her right hand was tied, and oh surprise, it was to the right side that the keys and her glasses were placed. 

Her left arm stretched, reaching for the little keys. He moved. She stilled. There was a pause in which she kept immobile. He settled and she sighed softly, reaching again.   
Her fingers grazed the iron ring holding her escape. Almost there, just a little more!

The movement was so fast she only felt it when her hand was taken into his and pulled away. In the movement, his bangs were parted, and she stopped. His eyes were entrancing, glowing like a feline’s, so bright and enchanting. They were different. They shone, they had something - she wasn’t sure what- but they had it.

“I thought I told you to go back to sleep.” He whispered, a hidden menace in his voice. The hand not holding onto her own fell on her hip, tracing down to her thigh. “Unless you’re already feeling better, and are up to something else?” A smirk, irritatingly seductive, graced his now scarred features. She gasped, catching up to reality from her stupor.  
Oxygen, though unneeded by their kind, seemed to lack in the air, there was no possible way to breathe. She had to get to the keys, she had to escape. He was holding her tightly, there was no way to get out unless she played his game.

Her face lowered to his, tentatively pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. There was a confounded gasp on his part, before snapping out of it and turning his face, placing his lips on hers. It was her turn to be surprised, but she played it well, noticing that his grip was slacking. She kept kissing him as his hands finally let hers free, opting to cup her cheeks. His eyes shut in bliss, and she took her chance.

Her mouth left his, fluttering kisses being spilt onto his neck. Something akin to purrs escaped his lips, reveling in the unexpected attention. In a flash, her teeth sank into the crook of his neck, drawing the so-adored red. He yelled in pain at the contact, gripping long strands of silky hair. She let go, twisting her body, taking the infernal keys in her hand. She pushed herself off of him, struggling to fit it into the lock. The other Reaper - none to pleased about the assault- pounced onto her, his weight pressing down on her and a tight grip on her free hand. She groaned at the feeling, the previous agony surfacing to the forefront of the mind. 

“Tryin’ to escape, little Red? It won’t do you any good.” He kissed her neck, sucking at certain spots to get her to gasp.

The door to the room swung open, revealing the Original that had saved the silverette. His usually stoic face turned red, his Reaper-eyes widening in embarrased astonishment. “A-Adrian!? What the hell are you-? Get off her!” The silver haired Reaper- apparently called Adrian, looked up to the other with a growl.  
“What does it look like I was doing? What do you want now?” He was glaring daggers at his friend, blood still dripping from his neck. “Everything is done. And are you bleeding again!? Honestly, it’s like looking after a child!” Lawrence came into the room, grabbed the collar of Adrian’s shirt and pulled him off the redhead, making sure to tear away the iron keys from her grasp.

“Well, little Red, our encounter will sadly have to be postponed. Anderson here is a bit squeamish, we wouldn’t want him to faint, would we?” He taunted, giggling in his lunatic way. Lawrence only tugged on the other’s ear, earning a groan.

“I am not squeamish, nor would I faint. Apart from that, you need to take care David Knox’s bloodline, the two children we’ve been holding hostage this week.”  
A week? Has it honestly been a week since the raid? Where is David? My baby! Where’s my Ronnie? Ronnie, Alan!

“Where are they!? What have you done to them!?” She thrashed, willing the chains to break, yet to no avail. Low growls emitted from her throat in a feral manner. Both men swept their gazes towards her burning eyes. The one who had been laying next to her smirked lazily.

“Where are they? That’s a good question indeed. Where may those Reaperlings be, old chap?” He teased, turning to his friend. “Down in the dungeons of the Great Library, locked up.” Tears welled up in Grell’s face, cascading down her cheeks.

“NO! Let them go!” She roared, pulling onto the chain once more. At this, Adrian’s smirk increased tenfold. “Why would I? They are my enemy’s kin, I shan’t let them live.” Incessantly, she struggled, twisting, turning and pulling. “I’m taking over, didn’t you know? There is no Alpha male anymore, I run this place now, lovely.” He chuckled at her helpless expression. “I’ll grant you a last look at them, because I’m feeling nice this time.” He took the keys from a shocked Lawrence, gliding over to her and placing his index finger over her parted, bloodied lips.

“Just promise me to behave, and I might even let you say goodbye.” 

The cuff was finally unlocked. She was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of a five part arc. I’m quite surprised that this came up in my mind. It started when I was watching a documentary on monkeys (?). Rivaling clans will invade the other’s territory; if the invading bachelor's win, they get the females and kill the previous’ male’s offspring. I don’t know how I connected that to this...but alright. It works for me.


	14. Nature of Reapers pt. 2

“Just promise me to behave, and I might even let you say goodbye.”   
The cuff was finally unlocked. She was free.

He took her hand, and guided her over to where Lawrence stood. “Well, let's get going. Poor lil’ souls must be feeling lonely.” The three left the room, walking down the stairs and out of the house. Streetlights gave a dim illumination as they walked past the abandoned paths. Houses were destroyed and rubble consumed the park where Grell would often take Ronnie to meet with his friends. This was only a fraction of the real damage they had caused. She stifled her cries, wanting nothing more than to tear those two into tiny pieces with her Scythe. They kept going, and soon breached the doors of the Great Library.

“Ah, it has changed quite a bit since I was last here, wouldn’t you agree, old fellow?”

“Yes, indeed it has.” Replied the mustached Reaper. “Let's get on with this. We have more important things to do.” The trio marched down the flights of stairs, air getting chilly and damp as they went. A shiver went through Grell’s spine. Adrian brought her closer, pressing her to his side. “Are you cold, m’dear?” Instantly, she pushed him away, gritting her teeth and frowning. 

“Get away from me. I’m fine.” Her expression died as she saw his ever-present smile turn sour. He loomed over her in a second, making her shrink into herself at his intimidating presence. “Now, now, we had a deal, remember? Play nice.” He chastised, then moved on as if nothing had happened. She followed in silence, letting him drape his arm over her shoulders without further complaints for fear of him lashing out again. I have to be strong for them! Keep it together!

They passed the darkened halls, entering the chambers of the Dungeon. Wails from the Reapers imprisoned resonated all over the place, composing a symphony of despair. As they went, she recognized her colleagues and friends amongst the crowd. One of them, the transfer from Scotland, Eric Slingsby looked upon her; sensing her anguish, fueling his own rage. “Oi, bastard! Get your filthy hands off’a her!” He ran up to the barriers, banging on the metal bars. “I swear-”

“There’s no need for that, chap.” Adrian’s cold smirk was directed at the blond, freezing him to his place. “I promise to take care of your friend over here, I’ve taken a liking.” Onyx clawed hands squeezed the redhead’s shoulder in what should’ve been a comforting manner, yet came out entirely disturbing. Eric gave her a helpless look, feeling broken and defeated. “Don’t worry, Red. We’ll pull through, we always do.” He retreated to the back of the cell, a deep frown marring his handsome features. A raven haired Reaper adjusted his glasses, a usually stoic face crumbling to show the fear hidden beneath the mask. He eyed the pair, feeling a pang of sympathy for his normally flamboyant coworker. When he saw her like this, he wished that things went back to how they were before. He had never realized how he liked her smile, how it always brought a sense of comfort, until now. He couldn’t stand the look of defeat on her face, on the face of the first person to ever call him a friend.

Their eyes met, and for a second, that insecurity vanished. She stared at him intently, reaching for his soul with her gaze. He let her in, and heard her voice. In the trance, he knew what was to be done.

“We’ll get out, Sutcliff. You take care of yourself.” He adjusted his glasses once again, and retreated over to Eric’s side. More tears came down Grell’s reddened eyes as she nodded and was pulled away from them. She knew what would happen; they still had hope, but she still feared him.

“I wouldn’t trust them, m’dear, they don’t know anything.” The sinister grin was back, sending uncontrollable jolts of electricity down her spine. She said nothing as they kept going down the dimly lit hallways. The candles lighting the rustic chandelier at the end flickered, some of them blowing out and letting the darkness seep in. Cries were wept from the little, lost toddler and child, each of them wishing to be home, away from the scary darkness. 

Acting on impulse, she untangled herself from the silver Reaper’s grasp, running over to the cell where the cries came the loudest. “Ronnie! Alan!” She grasped the bars, desperation and heartbreak making the tears fall easily. Their tiny frames came into view as they rushed towards her. Their limbs were skinnier than before as they shoved their hands past the bars to get to her, unable to believe that this was real.

She embraced them as best as she could, saying comforting words of reassurance, but knowing they wouldn’t be worth much soon. Their tears came even stronger than hers, both Reapers clinging to her tightly. “Mommy! Pwease ge’ us ou’. I wanna go home!” They cried in relief, feeling just a bit safer in her loving arms. She soothed them, until their wails became whimpers, and only a few tears ran down their cheeks.

A tattle-tale spark jolted over her. He was behind her. He stood there, eerie grin in place, looking down at the trio.

“Well, what a delightful reunion.” His cold hand found its way onto her shoulder. “Shame, that I ought to dispose of such adorable Reaperlings. Say your goodbyes, Little Red, my giving mood certainly won’t last too long.” With a powerful pull, he yanked her away from the children. They screamed, trying to grab onto her, but with no success. She was pressed against his body, an arm slung across her chest and the other through her torso, trapping her to him. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.” The words were uttered into her ears in a whisper, the seductive tone holding a second intention to the promise. His lips were trailing down her jaw, fluttering kisses being laid with the tenderness of a lover. “I have chosen you as mine, Little Red, so mine you shall be.”

She growled. How dare he!? She shoved him, elbowing his gut and sending a swift kick to his stomach. He barreled across the floor, crashing with Lawrence Anderson. Grell took that precious time to summon her Death Scythe and have it roaring to life. She positioned herself, blocking both Alan and Ronald from whatever may come next. The two elders picked themselves up, summoning their own.

“On second thought, Red, I’ll forget any gentleness I planned on having… on both cases.” His toothy grin was unsettling, but she suppressed her fears. ‘Volatile creature, interesting.’

“You will not lay a hand on any of them!” Primitive as it may be, she bared her shark-like teeth, having them glint in the dim lights. “You may have defeated David Knox, but I am his spouse. In his absence I am the Alpha. You have not triumphed yet, Crevan.” Instantly, William and Eric made an appearance, the duo raising their own weapons unto the Originals, yet not making a move.

Laughter came as a response from the silver-haired, while the brunette only adjusted his grip on his cane. “You are a woman, aren’t you? You can’t be an Alpha, even in your husband’s absence.” Lawrence said, plain boredom written on his face. It was her turn to smile like the Cheshire. 

“I am a woman, yes. But, you see, my darlings,” she paused, the smirk widening devilishly, “I am also a man.”

She propelled herself forward, Scythe at the ready for an attack. Her advances were evaded easily enough, but the Originals found themselves outnumbered, and also quite stunned. 

“Until you defeat me, your reign will not begin.” 

The real battle commenced. Grell, they noted, was exceptionally gifted in the art of assault. She had uncomparable technique, paralleled even to that of Adrian’s. They destroyed - completely obliterated- the area in which they fought, crashing beams and walls, tearing apart the structure. Dust and debris flew through the air agitatedly. The strikes and counters came and went, yet neither relented. Each one had a different reason for fighting, but each one knew they had to be the winner.

A silver lining presented itself, and he had no doubts upon taking it. He came behind the raven Reaper, clamping his hand holding the scythe, and in a harsh movement, flicking it away from his grasp. He turned to face his assailant, but was met with the end of a cane to his face, cracking his lenses and rendering him blind - he did always have a terrible sight, even more than others. His nose busted, bleeding rather heavily. Stumbling back from the force, he tripped and fell, pain becoming prominent in his mind. Eric saw this from the corner of his eyes, and instantly left his brawl with the silver-haired ancient to come to his aid, Grell taking his place. It was not enough to keep him distracted.

“Never take your eyes off your opponent, chap. Don’t they teach you fellows any better?”

A sharp jab was directed to his leg, piercing the skin smoothly. He hardly felt it entering, but he did feel it when his fall pulled the scythe along his muscles. A string of curses left his mouth in pained yells. Both he and William were then faced with the Original’s Death Scythes. They were defeated.

Grell watched, as her tormentor laid those luminescent yellow-green orbs on her toxic ones. He turned away from her friends, but his scythe was still close enough to be deemed threatening. Lawrence held up the other side, where William was.

“My, my, Little Red, how entertaining you’ve turned out to be. It almost saddens me, to think I also have to get rid of you now. I was getting quite attached.” He seemed to be saddened by the prospect, but she knew better. Shrugging, he went on, “Had you been nicer, I might’ve been a smidge more merciful, alas, you were not; and for that, your friends shall pay.” He raised his scythe over his head and swung.

“William! Duck!”

“No! Wait!”

“Kill him already, Crevan.”

“Oi! Lea’e ‘im ya bastards!”

“Shut up.”

“You be quiet!”

Desperately, she yelled. “Parley! I invoke the right of Parley!”

It stopped, a mere inch away from the raven Reaper’s clenched eyes.

Everyone froze; she panted, out of breath. “Parley? Seriously?” The brunette sighed gruffly. “Your call, Adrian.” Said Reaper deflated. “Alright, fine. Make it quick, Little Red, death is inevitable.” All timidity was fiercely swallowed.

“If they live… if all the prisoners unjustly captured, and the children are set free and alive, I give the Dispatch to you.” Four pairs of eyes widened. They were instantly directed at her, and she did her best not to cower under their scrutinizing gazes. Silver bangs were parted and the Original’s eyes were once again revealed to her.

“What exactly does that entitle, dear?” So familiarly, so lovingly those words were uttered from sinfully addictive lips - she should know. It almost made her forget what she was going to say, but her friend’s agonized whimpers reeled her back.“It means that I resign to my rights of Alpha, if you promise to keep your end: to care for the Reapers and let my children live.”

“Grell! Don’t! It’s not worth it!” They warned, but were instantly silenced by a whack to their heads.“A peaceful retreat is better than a forceful takeover. You know we can’t beat them. I promised David to care for our Dispatch, so that’s what I’m doing now.” Her acidic pools of jade fell on Adrian’s venomously. “I release my charges to you, once the terms have been agreed to.” Lawrence considered it. “It’s a good idea, our plans may fall into place more smoothly that way.” Adrian smirked- infuriatingly. 

“I agree to your terms, Little Red. I vow to have the utmost care for your beloved Dispatch, and I vow not to be the reason of your children’s death - but only if you agree to my single demand.” The way he looked at her conveyed a deeper message. ‘I’m not going to like this, I won’t like it at all.’ She stared intently, her heart racing.

“Marry me.”

Her racing heart stopped. Bats swarmed her stomach, making her wish she could vomit them. The bewildered expression she sported made the man chuckle. Her partners could only stare and make slight protests before being silenced. “So, Red, what do you say to that?” She let her eyes wander over to the wounded Reapers. Their own gazes begged her not to. But it’s the only way… It’s the only way we’ll all be safe. A pair of Originals protecting our Dispatch, my children will live, I have to do this… I promised him. I have to protect them.

With a wavering voice, she sealed her fate, “I’ll marry you.”

She heard the faint yells of Eric and William, Anderson’s heavy sigh escaped her grasp. She could only focus in the lips kissing hers ever so feverishly, those eyes staring into her own. Her cheeks became pink in embarrassment at the act and audience. He parted their lips, ginning. “Excellent choice, my love.”

He tossed the keys in her direction, hastily exiting with Anderson at his side. “Set them free, my dear. I’ll go tend to a few matters with my own. Ta.” 

She rushed over to William, whose nose was already healed, and Eric, who still lay on the ground, unable to move. “Grell! Ah- ye alright?” She cradled his head soothingly, running a hand through his hair. “Shh, I’m alright. Will, help me get him to an infirmary. Careful with the scythe wound on his calf.” She began to pick up his torso, when his whimper and William’s insistence stopped her. 

“Grell… I’ll care for him. You take your child and Alan. Give me a key, I’ll get out Alexander and Damien to carry him- cell 245.” She handed the item without question, but with an unsteady grip. William ushered her out, escorting her to the demolished exit. “Go, Sutcliff… it’s time to be that deathly efficient Grim Reaper you say you are.”

She ran. She kept running; until she found her way back. The cell doors were hastily thrown open. Alan and Ronald barreled out of the dark corner where they’d hidden to meet her- crashing into her arms. Tears were spilt and the children wailed in ecstasy. Finally, someone they knew! 

There was no time for a happy reunion, they had to free the other Reapers - and find out what the Originals planned to do. One after the other, the cells were opened. The Reapers were instructed to return to their homes; the ones without, would stay at the shelters until further notice. More than half of the population had to inhabit them.

“Grell! Alan!” A hazel-haired Reaper ran up to the redhead holding on to the two children. Without warning, she took the brunette from Grell’s grasp, taking the boy into her impatient arms. “Alan, my baby!” she kissed his cheeks and scanned him over for injuries. “Are you alright? Does anything hurt?” She was frantic, but paused to send a grateful glance at her friend. “Thank you, Grell! For caring for him.” her Reaper eyes narrowed in concentration, “Are you well? You seem pale and distraught.” A soothing hand was placed on her ivory cheek.

Without a warning, tears cascaded down her face, and she fell on the other’s awaiting embrace. “I-I… I’m fine, I’m okay.” Sniffles and whimpers were calmed by the child’s gentle touches. “Is alwight. You save us, we okay.” Alan called while stroking her long locks.

“Saved? Grell, what do they mean by that? What did you do?” She now noticed, it was strange that Ronald was alive - being the heir and all that. He should’ve been of the first to die. “I-I made a deal - with the Originals. For the safety of the Dispatch and my children… I give all power over to Adrian Crevan.” The brunette couldn’t fully grasp the situation, and she made her queries known.

“What? You can’t do that! The power is yours, you simply can’t hand it over!” The severe eyes regarding her told her otherwise. “If I marry him, then it can be.”

“No, no… but-”

“I already made my desicion, Emma. The safety of the Dispatch and my children…. in exchange for myself.”  
No words could be said for a sacrifice like that, especially from that redhead. Before coming to the Dispatch, she belonged to the one in France, and there had been forced to marry another. When she broke free of that one, she was once more forced onto a marriage, this time it was more pleasant - but it was unfulfilling. Now once more, she was coerced into giving herself - but this time, there was no personal gain. In the cases prior, she always got something out of it, but not this time.

The friends embraced, exchanging comfort in the middle of a war. It was not to last long with the next words uttered.

“Alan needs to stay with me.”

“Wh-why? He’s my child, he needs me!”

“I know - but they believe him to be mine, it’s the only way to keep him alive now. I’m sorry.” Emma’s mouth hung ajar. “How?”

“They came when Alan was over… and they thought he was mine. I didn’t correct them, in fear that they’d kill him. If there was any other way, I would’ve taken it. Emmy I-”

“Don’t worry about it.” she brought Grell closer to herself. “He’s alive and well. I thank you immensely for that. I will still get a chance to see him grow, and to love him- even if from afar. It’s hard, I know, but as a mother I know… it is what is best.” A few tears of her own escaped. “We have to return now, let us part.” Silently, they left. Emma held onto Alan, it would be the last time she could do it for a while.

Unbeknown to them, a shadow moved from the corner, flickering with the flames. It vanished soon, without a sound, without a trace.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

That night, Alan and Ronald slept in the same bedroom in her house. She had sang them to sleep, and made sure they were out cold before leaving the room. She dreaded entering her own space, where she’d be left alone with him. It was inevitable, as he had said, to meet death; so sooner than she might’ve liked, it was time to depart to her room.

Silently, she slipped in and closed the door behind her. Adrian was waiting for her, it seemed. He was sprawled on the bed - on the side that had been David’s- hands behind his neck and ankles crossed. She went into the adjacent washroom, picking a set of silk red pants and gray shirt. Following her nightly routine felt odd, to say the least, knowing that who awaited her on the other side was not him.

The door opened, and he was still in his place. Hesitantly, she approached the bed. He turned to glance at her with a sickening grin.

“Scared, m’dear?” Sniggering, he covered his mouth and pat the place next to his. Simply to spite him -if that was ever to be achieved- she jumped onto the bed, curling up under the blankets and hogging them to her side. “Never. Goodnight.” The silverette only chuckled, scooting over to her.

“Aw come on, I wanted to talk with you.” A hand slithered across her hips, turning her over to face him. “About something very important.” In that moment, she was thrown over him, and then he was on her, pinning her lithe frame to the mattress below, fury evident in those enchanting eyes.

“Someone’s been hiding secrets which I don’t care for.”


	15. Nature of Reapers pt. 3

“Someone’s been hiding secrets which I don’t care for.”

She froze, toxic lime eyes staring into his maddeningly entrancing orbs, a deep fear installing itself into her heart. She tried to play it cool - to not let him scare her. It was all for not, she knew. His eyes told her that.

“Tell me, Little Red, who is darling Alan’s mother? It surely isn’t you.” So this is what it was about. The question was, how? How did he find that out? Why did he need to know? It made no sense.

“I am! He is my child - believe it or not. If you even think of laying a hand on him I will-”

His hand covered her mouth tightly, blocking out the sound of her voice. “He is not your child and as such should be dead. You lied, Little Red, and that goes against our agreement. You want me to trust you, but you don’t trust me - how ironic. Whatever will I do about this?” A malicious sneer forged itself onto his face.

"Ah, I know! If I kill him, then the agreement will stay intact. What do you say?” The sneer in his face only deepened with his next, jealousy-covered words. “You do want to keep your promise to him, don’t you?”

“No! Don’t you dare!” She let out a guttural scream, to which he once again silenced with his hand. “Careful dear, you’ll wake the children.” He chastised mockingly. She frowned, biting his hand until it drew blood. He pulled it back when she released it. “Don’t you dare bring him into this! Though he wasn’t birthed by me I sure as hell am his mother! He is my child, and you won’t lay a hand on him.” She hissed venomously. Adrian growled, but then a more terrifying thought came to mind at his sudden smirk and cruel glint to his handsome eyes.

“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry, love.” He kissed her forehead, “I shall leave him then, he only has you, right? No one else that loves him, not even his own birth mother - even if she is alive. I wouldn’t be able to wish such distress on my future wife.” His tone was condescending, trying to guilt her into getting rid of him. “And that other child -Ronald, was it?- would they truly be brothers?”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything about them! A deal’s a deal; you will leave them both alone.” It was her who was growling now. He would find that guilt was an emotion she hardly came by, much less by someone like him. “Now get off me!” She pushed him to the side, and consequently, to the floor. With a smirk, she peered down at him. “Why don’t you sleep down there? We’re not even married yet, and I still haven’t relinquished my power to you, A~dri~an.” Her lips curled into a sneer, much like his own had been.

He huffed from his spot, clenching his fists tightly. 

“No discussions.”

“Pfft, or what, princess?” He stood to his full height, back straight and shoulders squared, looming over her small frame. “What will you do to me?” Grell bit her lip, knowing that he was right. What could she do against an Original like him? He pushed her back, reclaiming his spot and laying with his hands behind his neck. 

“Get used to this, dearie.” He faced her, his expression incredibly serious. “Now go to sleep, tomorrow’s a painfully long day.” She didn’t have the strength to protest, nor the will. Like a fearful cat in a storm, the normally flamboyant Reaper curled up on her side, clutching the pillow and blankets to her chest. “You’re right… an awfully long day.” A yawn passed her lips, and she closed her eyes, ceasing her breaths. That was always the fastest way to fall asleep; to die at night, so that morning may be a new life. Hopefully, it would soon get better.

 

Sunlight poured in from the window, awakening the Red Reaper from a dreamless sleep. The yellow light reflected on the silver man’s pale skin and gave his hair an ethereal glow. She rolled her eyes… He appeared to be an Angel, acted like the Devil and yet, was neither. He was a man of mystery and beautiful darkness, one that she hated, but was also entranced by. Kicking those thoughts out of her head, she went to stand. An arm, encased protectively around her waist prevented her from doing so.

“Mornin’ love. Sleep well?” Adrian called in a low, lazy voice. A soft smile, unlike anything she’d ever seen on him, adorned his features - and drawing the lady to him as a flame would to a moth. She was unable to bring forth her ire, settling instead for a wordless nod. “Good. We still have a few more minutes before the kids have to wake up and we need to get everything ready - stay here with me until then.” His voice was inviting - not at all how it’d been the previous times they talked. Even his slender hands caressed her locks delicately, enticing her to stay that little extra time. Grell let him do as he pleased, her rage was nowhere to be found at that moment; consumed by a rather pleasant surprise.

They stayed like that for a while. He got up, and she went to wake the children and get them ready. Alan insisted that he could dress himself, but it turned out he still needed a hand when he put his underwear and his shirt inside out. Grell had to giggle, it was quite adorable. She bathed Ronald and donned him his favorite orange shirt and black shorts. After that, it was time for her to get ready, so she left them both playing a game while she did so.

A few minutes later found the trio sitting in the kitchen table, eating a scrumptious breakfast served by Adrian. He had served each of them a plate with a daring pat on the head and a kiss to Grell’s cheek. Astounded, no one said anything, but thanked the Reaper and ate what he had prepared. He sat with them, facing the redhead and with both children to his sides.

“Love, why don’t you leave them with Emma Humphries today? While we go finish all that dreadful paperwork and things, I’m sure they wouldn’t want to be around for that.” Alan beamed, knowing exactly who they were going to see. Grell on the other hand, was a bit suspicious. What’s he up to? “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Still, it would be unwise to go against him so openly - especially in front of Ronald and Alan.

“Perfect, you can leave them with her and then meet me in the offices; I’ll have everything ready by then.” It baffled her; the way he acted. This didn’t fit with what she had seen before. She pushed back those feelings, she had to focus (and possibly attempt to think up a plan to have him killed- there was no way she trusted him yet).

 

It was midmorning now. Grell and Adrian sat next to each other, signing papers that sealed their fate. The supervising Reaper was William, and Lawrence Anderson stood idly in the corner, watching the exchange with burning eyes. “That would be all. I shall send these to Resources at once. Gentlemen.” He left the room, stopping for a brief moment to squeeze the redhead’s shoulder and give her a rare, comforting gaze. He was thankful for her sacrifice, though worried for her. The other Reaper flanked him all the way to the offices.

Grell stared forward, there was nothing to say. Well, nothing but, “Why a ceremony? We’re already married.” The silverette looked up from a copy of the papers he was reading, and smirked. “I saw a picture of you, you were dressed in white, little bride. I thought it would be nice to have one - and that would be a perfect way to show the others what’s going on, don’t you think?” Now, she found her rage.

“What!? How can you even think that? Why would I even want to have a ceremony so beautiful and important like that to you!?” She hissed, her eyes and tone dripping with poison. “I hate you.” In an instant, she was thrown back, now standing against a wall with a strong hand grabbing her jaw forcefully and a powerful body pressing against her own.

“Now, now, that isn’t any way to talk to your husband - or is it?” He applied more pressure on her jaw, earning him a feeble squirm and a pained grunt. “Besides, you had one with him; that was another marriage you didn’t want - why can’t I have one?” Adrian ended with a faux pout gracing his lips. He let go of her face, though otherwise stayed where he was. “That’s because I loved him! He was my best friend, and he deserved something good like that, even if it was to me. You don’t deserve anything.” Her eyes burned, furious tears pricking at the corners. She pushed him back, heading straight for the door. “My marriage to him was unwanted, but I still loved him like a friend - he did that for me, for my own good and his. I felt something for him. I feel nothing but hate towards you.” 

“Don’t you dare leave this room.” He threatened. “Or what, Crevan? You need me alive for at least the next century. Feelings were never part of our deal.”

She slammed the door behind her as she left, tears rushing down her face; leaving him stunned.

‘And I just wanted to do something nice, for a change…’ 

 

Later that night, Adrian did not show up for dinner, as she and the boys had assumed. They spoke freely. “Who is he? And… and why he think you my mommy?” She almost dropped the plates she was setting in the sink. How did one explain this sort of things to them? They were so little and had nothing to do with the ongoing conflict outside. She was taking him away from his mother - forcing him to live with her so that he could live. How was this fair to them? Ronald lost his father, never to see him again. How? How did one survive this?

Slowly, she placed them and dragged over to the table with heavy steps. She sat pushing her bangs back, sighing. “He is Adrian Crevan, an Original Reaper. Do you know who those are, Alan?” The boy nodded. “They are most powerful ones. Very, very strong.” She smiled. “Smart boy. Yes, he is a very strong and powerful Reaper.”

“Then, why think you are my mommy? Is no sense!” He raised his arms, and she was glad to note they were beginning to thicken to a healthier state. A sad grin broke her face, but she tried to keep positive - for them. 

“Alan, do you know what happens when strange Reapers come into our Dispatch without telling us?” A nod. “Yeah, they try kill us.” He frowned, not comprehending how this was meant to take him away from his mother. “Exactly. Adrian did that, and he won. I made a deal with him, remember? That deal made him think I’m your mom so you can live.” He gasped, everything finally clicking in his mind as if instinctual. “No! Please no! I - I want mommy! I like you, but I want mommy!” She took him in her arms, soothing the boy. She knew this would be hard to live with. “Shh, shh, I know, sweetie, I know. I promised your mom to take good care of you, and I’ll make sure you can see her whenever you can, alright?” He cried, Ronnie wondering whatever could be wrong and walking over the table to hug his friend. Normally, Grell would scold him for such a thing, but let it slide for this once. She pulled him onto her other lap, and comforted them both until the brunette’s cries vanished.

“Thank you.” He sniffed, making way out her hold. “I wanna sleep now.” Grell nodded, putting him down and patting his head. “Sure, brush your teeth and put on your jammies. I’ll be there later.” He left, wiping the tears clinging to his lashes. Ronald stayed where he was, intent on asking a question that had been on his mind all this time - just the one Grell dared to answer.

“Mommy, where dada?” 

She knew it; it was bound to come. But she wasn’t ready. She sighed, better tell him the truth. “Ronnie, love, daddy isn’t here anymore. Daddy… h-he died. He isn’t coming back.” The child’s response was unexpected. She had thought that he would cry, scream and deny what had been said, but none of that ever came from the usually cheery boy. “Oh.” He deflated, falling against her chest. David had always been Ronald’s best friend. Always there for everything - the two were inseparable. To him, it was like losing more than his father; a part of him died that day. “I miss ‘im. I want dada.” He curled up, tears welling and falling as he sucked his thumb. Grell kissed his head, clutching him tightly. “I know sweetie, I want him back too.” She whispered sweet reassuring nothings, and soon, he was almost asleep.

“Dada… I need dada.” She hummed her agreement. “I hate him! I hate Cwewan!” Grell said nothing - she felt the same. There was a moment in which he froze, completely stilling. “You smells like ‘im!” His young eyes filled with terror. “You! Twaito! I hate you too! You with ‘im!” With a powerful bound, he removed himself from her arms and raced to his room, yelling at the top of his lungs that she betrayed him - that she didn’t love David nor him. He had picked up on it. She always had a part of her that smelt of her mate. Until then, it had always been David’s scent. Now Ronald picked up the difference, and knew - to some extent- of the change. He was not pleased.

She let him. He needs to vent. He needs his sleep. With a few tears of her own, she retired to her room, feeling exhausted. Collapsing on the bed, she let out her own frustrations in the form of tears. Sobs racked her body as she lay curled up. This was too much. It was too painful. She didn’t care for outward appearances of strength. Now, she was alone and scared, now, she could let herself cry. Sleep came late and unfaithful, refusing to let her rest.

 

She awoke to sunlight, but there was no other on her bed. Groggily, she looked around, but found everything blurry. A hand came to her face, and she noticed the lack of her glasses. For a split second, she feared she had been tied down again. Thankfully, that theory was quickly dismissed as she sat up. She had been tucked in, her shoes and spectacles removed as well as her vest and neck ribbon. There was a rose lying next to her, a black ribbon tied to it and a note underneath. Picking her glasses, she picked the items up for inspection.

In a fit of fury, she threw them, angry tears beginning to form. She stomped over to the bathroom and got ready for the day, forgetting about the little gifts. When she came out, perfectly dressed, she stifled a scream. He lay in the bed, a hand behind his neck while the other toyed with the rose.

“Morning’ love. Sleep well?” She growled softly, heading towards the vanity and sitting on the stool. “Not really. Where were you last night?” She started brushing her hair furiously, the comb getting tangled in her knots. “At Anderson’s. We still had things to take care of.” He stood, pried the comb from her hands and worked on untangling the locks. “Gently, love. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” He finished up with a kiss to her head. “What got you worried about me?” Smirking, the silverette spun her around to face him. He picked a few strands and started on a braid like his.

“I’m not worried, merely curious.” She swatted his hands away, undoing the offending braid. He grinned. “Sure. Anyways, the ceremony will be next week - so I wanted to give you this at least.” Slender hands dug into pockets, bringing out a little black box. When opened, it revealed a silver band with a teardrop ruby in the middle. The bats swarming her stomach frenzied, making her dizzy. This was it - the physical form of her sealed fate. She was his, no matter how much she hated it. It was slipped on with tenderness, and she brought it up to her eyes to inspect it. It looked wonderful on her.

He kissed her, tongue overpowering and leaving the redhead breathless. “Do as you wish today, though please, come by for lunch with me.” He kissed her again and left the room. Childishly, she wiped at her lips, sticking her tongue out.

Do as I wish, ha! I’d kill you if I could, bastard! 

She went downstairs, making the children’s favorite breakfast. Little things, she had to give them little specks of happiness in the meantime. They raced down at the smell of sweet waffles and bacon. Each one took a seat and instantly ravished their food. “Slow down! You don’t want to get a stomachache.” She kissed their heads, Alan reciprocating the action, but Ronald only turning away. “No.” He went back to his breakfast, completely ignoring her. She sighed, knowing what he thought. There was nothing else to do but sit and eat. 

“Alan, your mommy is going to spend today with you. How does that sound?” He beamed. “Yay! Mama!” He drank up the remainder of his milk and ran to get his teeth brushed. Her own son though, gave her the evil eye. “I want dada.” Grumpily, he picked the pieces of waffle and shoved them into his mouth. “I know, Ronnie, I do too.”

“NO! You want Cwewan! Twaito!” It was enough. She picked him up, carrying him all the way to the counter and settling him to her level.

“Listen, Ronald!” He stopped his abusive words, they were too big for a two-year-old. “I love your dad. I love him. I still love him, but I love you too.” Her hands cupped his pudgy cheeks gently. “Adrian was going to take you away, baby. He wanted to take you away - no mommy, no daddy. I can’t let that happen.” She kissed his head, and he calmed at her words. “I’m only with him to keep you safe. I love you, and your dad.” The dual haired boy sniffled, on the verge of crying once more. “H-h-he was? No! NO!” He burried himself in his mother’s arms, seeking her comfort, which she so eagerly gave.

“Shh, shh, I’m here, love. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.” She sang for him, that one song she had heard all her childhood and kept close to her heart. The little one had tired himself out with all the stress and mixed emotions plaguing his young heart. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here with you.”

It was about that time when Alan came barreling down the stairs, delighted that he would get to see his mother again. Grell smiled at his enthusiasm; it was contagious. She took his hand and the trio headed to the Shelters, seeking out Emma. They found her upon arriving, and so, spent the day in blissful ignorance of the events outside.

Today was for them to rebuild their broken families.


	16. Nature of Reapers pt. 4

A week passed by too quickly for her, though it didn’t matter - not really. She was already married. And today was the ceremony that would show everyone that. Grell took a deep breath, but it did little to calm her raging nerves. It was time.

The doors opened before her, staring into the room with darkwood pews decorated with vibrant red flowers. The stained glass windows ran from floor to ceiling, letting in the bright afternoon sun, making everything glow. The guests, nearly every Reaper from the Dispatch, turned around when the bride’s march came to sound. They became speechless.

Grell advanced, there were no bridesmaids, no flowergirls, nothing. Only her in a flowing black dress. The lace train dragged behind; there were crimson swirls adorning her bodice, the lace sleeves clinging to her arms. She looked like a Queen. The tune wafted in the air, the only sound apart from the clicking of her heels. In her hands was a bouquet of golden chrysanthemums flowers. Bewildered eyes followed the unusual bride. She walked forth with her head held high, an impassive look on her face. She didn’t blush, she didn’t smile, but no one expected her to.

A few hushed whispers went around, some thankful, others doubtful, but most were simply curious. How would this union turn out? William wondered who would kill who first, and secretly rooted for the redhead in his mind.

Grell looked at the man ahead and clenched her teeth. He stood, wearing a fitting suit with ebony dress pants, shoes and vest; a crisp white shirt and a red ribbon tying his hair back. His eyes were hidden, but she could just feel his gaze on her skin. Eric smiled comfortingly from where he stood next to the groom. William had been Grell’s first option to lead the dreadful occasion, yet had refused, due to not wanting to be the one to tie her to that man before their Dispatch. She had been disheartened, but Eric stepped up. They had once worked as partners, and he decided that even if it pained him, he would perform the ceremony so she would at least have someone to stand by her side. She reached them, and Adrian took her hand in his larger one, eyes tracing over her figure.

“My, you look lovely, m’dear. Black suits you well.” He whispered. “I found it fitting.” She replied through clenched teeth. “For a wedding?” She smirked impishly. “A funeral.” He raised a questioning brow, though the action went unseen. Eric started preaching so as to prevent any further comments (but he did laugh at what she had said), sending comforting glances at his friend.

Every once in awhile, Grell’s eyes would roam around the room, stopping on Ronald. He sat in the first pew, dressed elegantly and hair smoothed into a fashionable style. She smiled at her dashing son, and he tried to return the sharp toothed grin. Only a few tears managed to escape. He let his rage-filled orbs land on the one causing all his miseries. Adrian felt the heavy gaze, and when he turned to see who it was, almost laughed at the sight.

“What an adorable little kid, he’s got your hate.”

“Complimenting me?”

 

“Can’t I do that to my wife?”

She growled, and kept shut, eyes avoiding his. Eric swallowed - here came the moment they all dreaded.

“Adrian Crevan, do you take Grell Sutcliff, as your lawfully wedded wife; to love and to cherish, to respect and be your companion throughout your lives - in this and the next?” He pointedly glared at some words, wishing he could just kill the bastard. Then, said man smiled, so softly and genuinely, he couldn’t believe it was the same one who had overthrown their Dispatch.

“I do.”

Glancing over at his friend, he continued. “Grell Sutcliff, do you take Adrian Crevan,” he seethed the name, not caring that his glare could be felt all throughout the room - he was sure everyone had the same feeling, “as your lawfully wedded husband” a gag, “to love and cherish, to respect and be your companion throughout your lives - in this and the next?”

The world stilled in her mind - everything she could see, everything she could hear, but she couldn’t breathe. It crashed around her; she was bound, married, Ronald had a new father, David was dead, he was in charge of the Dispatch, they lost a battle - her life, the one she was slowly picking back together, was crashing down around her once more. But this was the only way to keep living. This was the only way to keep them safe, so damn her, she’d do it.

“I do.”

The fate was sealed. Not that it wasn’t before, anyway.

“With the power bestowed on me by our laws, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may kiss the bride.”

He took her in his arms, placing a gentle and soft kiss on her lips, almost ghosting. The crowd cheered awkwardly, not really feeling the love or happy spirit that was generally felt at weddings. Hand in hand, the ‘newlyweds’ walked down the aisle, her staring ahead and him smiling like a child that had gotten his favorite toy.

Ronald came after them, hanging on to his mother’s dress and walking in between the newlyweds. He made a point on stepping on Adrian’s shoes - not that it really bothered him, in the end. Still, he grinned at the man’s faked gasp of pain, flashing a dashing smile at his mother as if to say, ‘See? I’ve got this.’ Grell smiled tenderly, taking his hand and guiding them outside, where they met with Emma and her son. Ronald rushed over to his friend, and they both left to play.

"I'll care for him as if he were my own, don't you worry." The few tears that slipped by her lashes were quickly brushed away. “Thank you.” A brief hug was shared, a hushed, heartfelt goodbye was said between the friends and soon, the couple was gone to officially begin their married life. 

 

The duo arrived at their destination late that night. There was no moon, there were no clouds, but every single star could clearly be seen. An aurora started flashing, brilliant lights exploding in the dark, lighting all sorts of beautiful colors into the sky. She stared at the vast openness, appreciating the delightful view. “What do you think, love?” Breathless, she answered. “It’s amazing. So beautiful.” A grin crept onto his face, and he brought his hand up to her hair. “I know. This is what I saw, when I first glimpsed at your soul.” The silverette moved to stand before her, cupping her cheeks with chilled hands. “And the more I see it, the more I fall in love with you.”

She could see those eyes, those enchanting eyes that were so different and made her swoon. Those eyes were sincere and loving. Loving in a way she hadn’t been loved before. Not even David had loved her like that, and she felt her defenses crumbling against her wishes. The gap between them slowly diminished, till their lips were a hair’s breath away.

“N-no. You don’t love me.” She pushed him back, hands on his strong chest. “You don’t know that.” He replied, taking her hands in his own. “I asked to marry you because I wanted you, because I fell in love with your soul.” Head shaking, she stepped away. "But I don't. I don't love you. This is just a deal, and feelings were never a part of it."

“It was never just a deal to me. It was the only way to-”

“To get what you wanted. Screw love; real love goes both ways. If you loved me, you wouldn't have married me by a deal. Anderson himself said that this was a good move to get your plans going. I don't want to hear anything else about this. Goodnight, bastard.”

She thundered into the house they were staying in, slamming the door and locking the bolt. Her dress was hastily thrown on the floor, the pins on her hair yanked out breathlessly. Her eyes burned with fresh tears - when would she run out of those to cry? 

Grell shoved a pillow into her mouth, sinking her teeth into the white fabric, releasing a frustrated scream. Sobs soon came over her, and she found herself unable to stop the tears.

But why? Why was she crying over him? Over the one that had taken everything away and destroyed what she had managed to build up of her life? Why? Surely she hadn't believes for just a second in his cold lies. She didn't want them to be true. Yet, if that was the case... Why cry?

Equally confused and frustrated, sleep was once again elusive and unfaithful.

She heard him enter the room, and so curled into her side. He closed the door softly, ghosting over to the bed, removing his boots and upper clothing. The blankets shifted, being placed over her tenderly before he settled next to her small frame.

“It was the only way to keep you safe.”

It was a gentle whisper, followed by a smooth hand caressing her face. “Sleep well, little red rose.” Astounded into silence, she pretended to sleep as he graced her with innocent touches and loving words. The same ones she had always longed for.

“I never meant to break what you had, but it's in our nature to fight for what we want. I am an Original, I can't change that, I'm different from all of you. My instinct is stronger. We need lands, to rule, it is what our nature asks of us. My nature asked for you, my rose.” A kiss was gently placed atop her head. He shifted at her side, draping an arm around her waist and tucking her in. “Sleep, my dear. I promise to make it up to you in time.”

She couldn't take it anymore. All this was strange and new to her. Turning around, she faced him with seriousness.

“Is that true?” He was startled from the sudden move, having thought she was asleep, and not hearing his deepest confessions. Without awaiting a response, she lifted his bangs. Emerald green and molten gold shone in those Reaper eyes she adored to see. She didn't need to hear the answer to know what he meant.

“It is. I’m not the villain you think I am.” he faced to the side, avoiding her captivating gaze, “But that's a conversation for another time.”

“No,” she sat up, pulling at his hair, “We're talking about this right now. I don’t want any secrets from you.” Sighing, he rose to her level, holding her delicate hand in his. “If you insist.” With his head bowed, he complied to her wishes, and explained his reasoning.

“Original Reapers are much unlike you, my dear. I have tried to ignore my nature for too long. It is no longer the Golden Age of Originals, but even then, we cannot go against what we are.” There was no sense in his words, or at least, none that she could comprehend. “Still, I tried to stay away, the new Reapers are in charge now. It was not my place to interfere with your ways. It is time for change. But when Lawrence informed me of a Demonic infection, one corrupting the Souls of various Reapers, we had to step in. The Cinematic Records would be corrupted, creating more of those scum. We tried for years, searching for an antidote or something, but there was none other than Soul Extraction. David Knox was one of the infected.”

At that, she paled. “No, you’re lying. That’s not true, you lie!” She thrashed, trying to get away. “It’s a lie, it’s not true! You killed him! You took it all away! You took everything!” He held her tightly, hardly avoiding her punches and well aimed bites. Having no other option if he wanted her to listen, the Reaper shoved her against the bed, pinning her body with his own and twining their hands together. Tears of rage ran down her red-rimmed eyes, a scowl on her lips.   
“Listen to me.”

His voice was commanding, forcing her to stop her erratic movements. Venomous eyes were locked on his, and a wave of sudden compassion came forth in his mind. “Please, just listen to what I have to say.” Clasping both her hands in one of his, the silverette brushed his knuckles over her reddened cheeks. He waited for her breathing to calm, gently soothing her all the time.

“He was infected, so we had to end him. We couldn’t tell anyone of what we had found. They would have dismissed us as some has-beens trying to regain their lost power, further spreading the infection. So we acted as we saw fit. I… regret hurting you this way.” A few more sobs escaped her, but she didn’t let her anger take over. 

“Who else?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. He held her close, knowing that this was the sort of information one never wanted to hear. “Many more. Your Dispatch gave a good fight. Perhaps one day a cure can be found. For now, I have done what was needed.” She curled into his chest, seeking solace. “What are you going to do now? Why do you need me? Why didn’t you just kill me instead, along with him and Ronnie?”

He cradled her closely, “I will do what is needed to cure them. Lawrence is already gathering the best doctors. As for your other question…” The Reaper was at loss on how to proceed, stopping before any words got ahead of himself. His words were thought over carefully. He needed her to understand. “At first, it was because the rule was yours. I needed you to hand it over. If I killed you, no one would trust us. You were the Queen in this game, the most powerful piece, even when the King was there. But then, I saw your soul. It was so beautiful, unlike any other soul I’ve ever seen. It is said that our natures will guide us to the one we will love, but I never believed it until it lead me to you. I would never be able to do such a thing.” Startled wide eyes stared into his. “And without our deal, would you have killed Ronald?”

He looked down at her, suddenly very aware of everything he had committed to hurt this lovely creature. There was a lump in his throat that was hard to push down, and the way her eyes still remained in tears tugged at his heart. “Y-yes. It is a Reaper’s nature.” Her hands tightened their hold on him, horror clearly written on her face. “It is what any other would’ve done.”

“But I could’ve killed any other. Not you.”

She posed a valid point, to which his lips quirked in an awkward smile. “Of that I have no doubt, my rose. Now, don’t cry. I know I have taken much from you, but I swear that I will keep my end of our deal, and do anything in my power to make it up to you. You deserve that much at least.”

“Then, will you tell me the truth?”

He wondered what truth would she want, since that was what he had been giving her all this time, though wisely complied her request.

“Do you honestly love me now?”


	17. Nature of Reapers pt. 5

“Do you honestly love me now?”

He felt a chill going down his spine, painfully slow and agonizing. He knew the answer. He knew he loved her. What wasn’t known to him was is she would believe his confession. And that was something he found himself being terribly afraid of.

“Even if I told you, would you even consider believing in what I’ve said?”

Leaning back, she shook her head, and he felt his heart shatter. Her eyes showed some sort of disappointment, for which he didn’t know what to attribute to.

“I didn’t ask so that you would tell me.” 

At his puzzled frown, she gave a smirk. “I asked so that you would prove it.” Grell snuggled under the blankets, stretching like a cat and snuggling again - thoroughly enjoying his confusion. “A lady like me can’t only rely on words.” Her breathing stopped, she was asleep. A sudden flood of relief coursed through him. He had a chance. Bringing her into an embrace, he placed a kiss to her head.

He had a chance.

 

Morning came after the long night, leaning to the cold and nippy side. Grell snuggled deeper into the blankets, searching for her partner’s warmth. When her hands came up with nothing, her eyes blared open. She bolted upright, searching for him. He wasn’t there. Grell smirked, knowing he had believed last night’s lies. What a good little actress she was. Walking up to where her bags had been placed, she picked out a black gown that reached her knees. Her hair was quickly brushed, and the demotion scythes were hidden in her pockets.

Walking out of the room, she caught the scent of hot chocolate down the hall. The table was already set, a plentiful serving of her favorite breakfast prepared and served. A rose was set in the middle of the table, and her husband was putting away the dirty dishes. “Good morning, lovely. Have a seat, breakfast is done and warm.” Adrian pulled her chair out, and then pushed her in when she sat. He went around and sat himself. “Good morning to you too, darling.” They shared warm smiles, but only one was real.  
“I went over a few things I had talked with Anderson. The Reaper doctors are gathering, and I plan on joining them later. We can return by tomorrow, if you wish. Those folk don’t have much time, unlike you and me.” This was the first time she had heard him speak so selflessly, considering her before anything else. She was charmed, but her goal wouldn’t be forgotten. He had to die. For David, and for Ronnie. For everyone in the Dispatch. “Yes, that would be good.” Silence swept over them for the rest of the meal. When they were done, Adrian cleared the places and extended his hand to help her out of her seat.

“My, my, so there is a gentleman in you after all.” He smiled seductively, “Only when I want to please a beautiful lady such as yourself.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep herself from blushing. “And a flatterer. If I didn’t know better I’d think you have an ulterior motive behind such behaviour.” He stepped behind her, holding a narrow waist with one hand and caressing her hair to place it behind her ear, where his grinning lips hovered over, voice coming in alluring tones that made her knees weak. 

“Perhaps I don’t, but you do. Don’t you, lovely rose?”

She gasped upon feeling the demotion scythe against her stomach, slowly and sensually trailing up to her throat, where the cool metal kissed her skin. “I thought you might try something. I’m impressed you even got this far, but let me make one thing very clear.” His voice lowered to a threatening growl that sent shivers through her spine. “I will not be killed - not by you. You are mine, and in time, you will love me as much as I do you. You’ll see, it’s in what we are. Until then, I will give these back, and you can keep trying for as long as you like, but I will not meet my end through you.” He let go of his hold on her, upon which she almost tumbled to the ground. The scissors were placed on the table, his eyes briefly meeting hers, and the mysterious Reaper vanished into another room, leaving her to catch her breath.

He had her. She knew that. He had her wrapped around him now. He had proven himself, and now there was nothing else for her to do than accept and reciprocate his devotion. Adrian Crevan, an Original, Alpha of the United Kingdom, the most powerful Dispatch, was hers. Just as much as she was his. A sudden fire coursed through her, concentrating at her chest and spasming out through her veins. It was the same fire that flooded her body before her first time with David. It was the fire of consummation - and it was fiercer than before. 

But things were different this time. This time, she wouldn’t be with a friend who had married her to save them both. This time, it wasn’t to produce an heir. This time, it was to be dominated, to be pleased in a way she had never been pleased before. He knew it. It was their nature after all. She steadied herself, self consciously brushing a hand through her hair and patting down her dress, popping open the first three buttons. She licked her lips in anticipation - he would be waiting, she would be wanting.

Her heart was beating itself into a frenzy as she approached the room where he’d be waiting, her teeth sinking into her lips and a knot forming in her stomach. The closer she got, the more she felt there was less air, and an even greater need to breathe arose. She stopped short of the door, nervously reaching out for the handle. Fortifying herself, Grell pushed it open.

There was nothing on the other side. The bed was made, the nightstands were barren. The room was quiet. Where could he be? Wearily, she stepped inside, the door slamming closed behind her. She leapt back, letting out a loud yelp. Adrian was there, locking the door nonchalantly with a devious smirk in his face. 

“I knew you’d stop by soon enough.” He approached her slowly, a predator on the prowl. His hands grabbed her chin tenderly, his dazzling eyes meeting hers. She was speechless, and he took advantage by placing a kiss on her mouth, letting her take the lead. Tentatively she kissed him back. She let his tongue invade and wander, taking whatever he wished. He encouraged her to do the same. Her arms wrapped around his neck, where dainty hands played with silver locks. He became fiercer in his movements, pushing her against the wall, pinning her with his body. She trembled in excitement at the display of power. Grell’s confidence grew as she reciprocated the affections, daring him to take command. The battle for power ignited long forgotten flames in both, and they pushed it to the limits. She did always like a strong man that could force her into submission. Clothes were shed, passions were teased and enticed, awakening the desire for the other. In the intimacy of the room, their nature was fulfilled. 

“I am yours,” she whispered.

“As am I,” He replied.

Gone was the hate, the ire and raging storm that drifted them away. The two had found themselves, and so, their rule together would finally begin.

 

“Mom! You’re back!” Twenty-year-old Ronald threw himself into his mother’s arms, eagerly hugging her as hard as he could. “I know love. I’m happy to see you too. It was such a long week!” The two detangled themselves from their embrace. Grell had gone off to a convention in a neighbouring Dispatch to find other willing doctors and scientist to produce a cure for the Demonic infection. In the eighteen years that had passed since the first outbreak, when the Originals overtook their Dispatch, a considerable amount of progress had been made. Until the day, the number of affected Reapers had been decreasing slowly, yet steadily. It was enough to give them hope.

Grell and Ronald took a seat in the hospital bed, where Ronald once again had to plug in the IV, as he had recklessly ripped it off at seeing his mother. “How have you been feeling, darling?” Grell took his hands, caressing them softly. “Some days are better than others. I’m actually feeling better - it seems to be working alright for now. I haven’t thrown up since after you left. Dr. Seward also says my healing abilities are regenerating, that my body is starting to heal itself, but there is no way of knowing if this is just a fluke.” 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She pushed his bangs out of his boyish face, planting a kiss on his cheek. Adrian came behind them, smiling gently and holding a box behind his back. “Welcome home, lovely.” Ronald and Grell were startled for a moment, before Adrian came around to properly face them. He kissed his wife and pat his adoptive son’s head, the box remaining unseen by both. “It’s good to be home. What are you hiding there?”

A grin came over his face, one she knew to be the one he wore when planning something in secrecy. A look at her son revealed that he too was in on the secret. “What are you both cunning men hiding from me?” She smiled, impatient to know what this was about. Ronald turned his gaze away, as if to take the blame off himself. “Adrian has something to say to you.”

The silverette and the redhead faced each other; his eyes were uncommonly unveiled. “What is it, love?” He smiled.

“I love you. For eighteen years I’ve loved you. For that same time, I’ve been simultaneously hurting, and trying to cure you. Now, with your son’s permission, I want to marry you, as I should’ve done the first time. I want you to have what you deserve. Please, Grell Sutcliff, I ask you to be my friend, my partner, my wife. For this life and the next - whatever that may be.” There weren’t many times in existance that Grell fell short of words, but now was one of them. She looked at him, at the sincere and loving expression in his face, at the little velvet box, containing a ring, not too unlike the first one he had presented all those years back.

“You actually agreed to this?” She turned to face Ronald, who smirked in satisfaction smugness. “I chose the ring, now all you have to do is say yes and kiss him. I won’t even step on his feet this time after the ceremony, I already promised him that.” They exchanged a laugh at the final comment. It brought back memories of darker times, but now, they could laugh about it, leave it behind.

“So, what do you say?” His tone was far too anxious, and she realized, this is what she had wanted. To be married to him the right way, to have a family with him, to love him. It was what she wanted. 

“Kiss me, because I want to marry you.”

Ronald hollered in joy as his mother and step-father kissed. He cheered for them and their love. Not everything was alright in their world. He was sick, the attack had been cruel on them, but this love that blossomed was the cure. He knew that he’d die happy, knowing his mother was loved and treated well, that his Dispatch was in the right hands, and heading to a better future. That night, they celebrated. The next weeks, they planned until it finally came. The real wedding. Her dress was white and the flowers were lush roses. It was the first time Ronald left the hospital in months, and he was overjoyed that this was the reason. As promised, he didn’t step on Adrian’s feet as they left the church. This time, the spectators cheered for the union, and the bride smiled her brightest that night.

It was in their nature to submit to a more powerful rule, and bend to the whims of the new Alpha, but this was not submission. This was a love that grew in its stead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At one point when I wrote this, I honestly thought about having Grell kill Undertaker, but decided not to. For now, this is the final part, though I may or may not revisit it later on and add a few things. 
> 
> Also, anyone got the Dr. Seward reference? Just curious to know ;)


	18. New Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another arc, one that will be compiled by linked one shots happening throughout 9 of the holidays in the year, all following the same timeline -and it’s a Modern Day! AU. I hope you enjoy this piece and have a great and amazing 2016!

December 31st - 2015

11:55

Five Minutes for the New Year. Five more to closing another chapter of her very long life, leaving it behind. Five minutes to start anew. The music was deafening, further driving her mind into a haze. The party Ronald threw in a mansion at a closed off beach for the Reaper’s celebration for New Years had most certainly been one of the best. And perhaps it had been too much fun to drink the night away, playing games and completing dares with Eric, Alan and Ronald himself. It was great that William joined into a few of those. It was the best night she’d had all year.

11:56

And now there were four. Eric had gone with Alan to the rooftop to wait for the fireworks. Ronald was off being a great host, most likely entertaining the girls from Accounting, along with the ones from every other Division. William was nowhere to be found, but she supposed he’d left earlier. That left Grell on her own. She went outside to the docks, sitting at the edge. Her wild hair fluttering in the gentle breeze, green-gold eyes staring at the moon. It had been a good year, even better than the ones that came before. She never did get William to love her as she had wanted, though their awkward and strained relationship evolved into a steady and tight friendship; that was better than either had expected. 

11:57

Three more to go. The cheering escalated from inside the house, and she smiled. Years ago, it wouldn’t have been like this - not by a long shot. She’d gotten to fully show herself as she was, without feeling ashamed nor getting excessive negative criticism. There were still a few comments, but as time had passed, those became predictable, boring, and extremely easy to ignore. She dipped her feet into the chilled water. Eric had dared her to take off the red pumps for the rest of the night, so they lay forgotten since then in her room in the mansion. 

11:58

Two were left. She let her mind wander, and as it usually did when she was alone, it strayed to romantic places. As of late, she didn’t have a particular interest. Men had come and gone, some interesting, some intriguing, but more often than not, only slightly handsome but not worth her time. Still, none raised the feelings that William had once so easily ignited. She had realized they’d never be together, but she was alright with it. There were more Reapers she could fall in love with. Would this year bring someone new? Perhaps, perhaps not. The thought excited her. It would be interesting to be in love with someone other than William. Sebastian Michaelis didn’t count. She only liked teasing him because it irked him to no end, and knowing that he couldn’t kill her made her want to push all his buttons. It wasn’t everyday that she got to torture a Demon with hardly any repercussions. But then, she was never really in love with William, was she? Had she been in love with him, or the idea of him? As her thoughts kept wandering, footsteps crept closer.

11:59

One more. The footsteps from before were now silent, as the figure stood by her side. “Lovely night, ain’t it?” Grell raised her gaze, eyes a bit clouded, but still able to discern the speaker. “Quite so, just wait for the fireworks.” She smiled as she leaned back against the wooden planks. “It’s breathtaking.” The mortician took a spot beside her, watching the sky. “Why are you alone? A pretty lady such as yourself shouldn’t be out here without anyone. Someone might try to steal you away. Hehehe~” They shared a laugh, but Grell’s response wasn’t as lighthearted. “I’ve asked myself that question many times before, yet I don’t have an answer.” She turned to face him, gasping in awe at the sight of his unveiled eyes. “You don’t have to be alone. What if I stole you away?”

12:00 - Midnight

Fireworks shot into the night, exploding in bright fits of color. The sounds of their explosions echoed in the dark. His lips were on hers and it felt incredible. It wasn’t something she thought could -much less would- ever happen, but thinking was slowly dissolving away into nothingness as the heat of their kiss increased. She was starved for affection, and here he was, feeding it so willingly. Why wouldn’t she want it? He wanted her. He offered himself to her - he was there, desiring her. The way he kissed her sent shivers down her spine, it left her breathless. She let her lips be ravished by the fever in his ardent touch. Was it this good because she was more than a little drunk? Probably, perhaps, maybe not - it’s not like she was sober enough to care at the moment. Right now, she wanted to be pleased, and there he was, ever so complacent, her mind ignored all reason. And what better way to start the year than kissing this handsome madman? As the kiss intensified, her rational mind was thrown out the door and she let herself be lead to Undertaker’s room in the house.

January 1st - 2016

9:45 AM

She regretted giving herself so easily, permitting him touch and do things in places where his hands - and other parts of his anatomy - should never have been. It was everything her body ever craved, but her mind disagreed. Her mind, her heart, desired a companion. She didn’t want someone for one night. She didn’t need that. The Undertaker’s intentions were unclear, doubtfully they included romance. Love was fickle and evasive, lust was always at the door to claim its place.

She groaned as she got up from the bed. Undertaker’s side was cold - he must have left some time ago by now. She was sore from last night’s rough and untamed loving, flashes of those moments sparking in her head and reminding her of the pleasure she’d felt. The image in the mirror showed tangled, messy hair, bruised pale skin, as well as scratches and bitemarks adorning her body. This is how she wanted to look like after a vigorous night with a lover. The only thing wrong, was that Undertaker wasn’t that lover, he wasn’t there. With a quick glance to the door and a sigh, Grell recovered her discarded dress before stepping into the shower.

When she got out, hoping that perhaps he’d just left for a few moments and was already returning, maybe with a rose in hand or something the like, her hope depleted. He had not returned. Razor teeth bit down on her lip. She grabbed her coat and left the room, heading for the kitchen. There were a few Reapers still passed out from drinking heavily the previous night. For a minute, she wished she was one of them. At least the only thing she’d have to regret would be a massive hangover with no emotional entanglements. Undertaker was her friend. Why did it have to be him? What were they now? If he had taken advantage of their friendship and her being drunk, then she would be truly heartbroken. 

“Oh, you’re up already. I’d thought I’d have more time to get breakfast done, possibly even bring it to you.” Startled, Grell leapt, a squeak being released from her as her thoughts were interrupted. “You’re still here!?” Undertaker smiled, much brighter than usual. “Of course I’m still here. You didn’t expect me to be gone, did you?” As she worried her lip and averted her gaze, he felt his smile dampening. This was more than a one-night stand for him, but apparently that’s all it was for her. 

“I - I… um… I wasn’t sure -”

“Save it.” 

He stepped closer, standing toe to toe as cold hands grabbed her chin to make their eyes meet. “Forget any of this ever happened. I was clearly overstepping my boundaries.” He let go, turning around to hide the hurt he felt stabbing at his chest.

“Underta-”

“I said save it. It was a mistake, Sutcliff.” He didn’t glance back as he left the room. Once more, she was alone.

5:45 PM

She’d left the party not long after Undertaker had gone, but had been unsure as to look for him until now. With a deep sigh, she forewent knocking on the door and instead stepped into the dark mortuary. It wasn’t the same one as before, but the resemblance was uncanny.

“What are you doing here, Sutcliff? The shop is closed for today, and I hardly think you came for a coffin fitting.” His voice lost its funny accent and silly drawl, making it sound so unusually frigid and distant. He refused to look at her as he picked at various caskets, pretending to be occupied by them. 

“I’m not here for a fitting. I came here to talk.” She crossed her arms over her chest, as if the simple act would protect her from his ominous presence. “Then you know what my price is, but I doubt you’ll be able to pay for it this time.” Undertaker was seemingly busy checking the linen in a coffin; he didn’t want to face her. Not after what had happened that morning. 

“It’s not information I want.” She huffed, “I think you owe me an explanation for last night.” Her eyes became hard - not that he could see, he still hadn’t faced her. “I owe you nothing. Now get out of my shop.”

Undertaker turned to face her, anger evident in his face, making Grell cringe and draw back. At the sight, he lowered his voice. “Please, just get out.” 

He walked over to his desk, tipping his hat to cover his face and placing his feet on the wood. Grell followed him after a while, a fire brewing in her, a fire of rage. 

“I thought you left me, that you just used me for the night because I was drunk, and you were probably bored and it would be easy. What the hell do you have against me?”

Within seconds Undertaker had gotten up, too fast for the eye to see; and had her pinned against the wall. “You think I used you? You were the one expecting me to be gone.”

Her expression changed from scared to defiant. “I said I wasn’t sure if you’d be there or not! To the best of my knowledge until then, you used me and left, end of story!” Tears began picking at the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t want to believe that. Then I went down and you were still there and I didn’t know what to think.” They fell freely, clinging to her lashes and trailing down reddened cheeks.

“Did you truly think I would use you, Grell?” He stepped away, letting her unplaster herself from the wall and have space. “It looked like you had.” She stared at the floor, a hand playing idly with her hair.

“Did you, though? Was it just a one night thing to you?”

Gently this time, he raised her chin so their gazes could meet; his eyes were uncovered, bangs to the side of his face. “Grell, that is something I’d never be capable of doing. It was more than just sex for me, and I’d like it if that was more than sex for you.” The back of his hand caressed her face, wiping away the fallen tears. “I would very much want to start over, and do as I should’ve done last night - if you’ll permit me.”

“What do you mean? Undertaker, what are you talking about?”

“I mean, my lady, that I would like to take you out on a date, many if possible. I’ve wanted that for a long time.” Grell gasped in shock. Was that true? Did Undertaker want her in the way she had wanted to be loved? It looked like it.

“I think that would be a good idea.” She breathed. Undertaker smiled, embracing her tightly and kissing her lovingly.

“Then let's hope this new year brings a new love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, New Years was a few weeks ago, but by then I didn't have an AO3 account. So, this will be out of time, but the rest will come in place by when they're due. Next one up in the arc is Valentine's Day, coming up February 14th.


End file.
